Bellum Domesticum
by Littletiger
Summary: In his fifth year, Harry discovers that the Dursleys are not, in fact, his only living relatives. This is a response to Severitus' challenge.
1. Start of School

*Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to JK Rowling and Warner Brothers. I don't own them, though I might wish I did! This fanfic is purely for the entertainment of myself and whoever reads it; I'm not being paid to write it. That being said, enjoy!  
  
*This fic is a response to Severitus' challenge.  
  
(I've been enjoying Severitus' supremely well-written A Father's Sin so much that I just had to give a try at responding to the challenge. To those of you who haven't read A Father's Sin yet, I highly recommend it.)  
  
*Author: Littletiger  
  
*Rating: PG-13  
  
*Summary: In Harry's fifth year, the young wizard discovers that the Dursleys are not, in fact, his only living relatives…  
  
* * *  
  
1 Bellum Domesticum  
  
  
  
  
  
"Oh, no!"  
  
Harry Potter groaned as he read his new timetable, bright green eyes flashing with disgust behind his glasses. It was the first morning of Harry's fifth year at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and timetables had just been passed out at the Gryffindor table.  
  
"We've got double Potions with the Slytherins first thing!"  
  
Harry's best friend, Ron Weasley, looked up from his porridge to stare at him in horrified disbelief.  
  
"No way! Two hours of Snape and the slimy Slytherins first thing in the morning?!? That's pure torture, that is!"  
  
"Oh, Ron, stop griping!" admonished Harry's other best friend, Hermione Granger.  
  
"At least we'll have it over with at the beginning of the day, and we've got Professor Lupin for Defense Against the Dark Arts next class after Potions," she continued, scanning her timetable eagerly.  
  
Harry hoped that Professor Snape was not in an especially vindictive mood this morning. Harry and his Potions professor had never gotten along well, and Severus Snape loved nothing better than to deduct points from Gryffindor House and Harry in particular. However, as he glanced at the staff table, he found that the hook-nosed teacher was scowling at him with his usual expression of utmost loathing.  
  
Whereas Snape was quite possibly the most hated professor in the school, Professor Remus Lupin was quite popular. The latter had taught Harry and his classmates Defense Against the Dark Arts during their third year. To Harry's great disappointment, Lupin had resigned when Snape "accidentally" let slip that he was a werewolf. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had insisted that Lupin return to teaching at Hogwarts, as the werewolf was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that the school had ever had. Despite grumbles from some of the Slytherins, most of the school was rather pleased to have him back.  
  
Harry grinned as Lupin surreptitiously jerked his head towards Snape, rolling his eyes heavenward in mock exasperation at Snape's dour demeanor. From across the hall, Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled as he watched the scene.  
  
"I see Snape's still as cheerful as ever," muttered Ron.  
  
A frown crossed Harry's face as he reflected upon how Snape had singled him out for ridicule ever since his first Potions class. Dumbledore had once told Harry that Snape had hated Harry's father, James Potter. For the past four years, Harry had assumed that Snape hated him because he was James Potter's son and looked so much like him. But the more the young wizard reflected upon this, the more convinced he became that Snape's hatred of James Potter was not much of a reason for hating Harry. There had to be a deeper reason.  
  
While it was certainly true that Snape constantly made insulting references to Harry's father, he had never mentioned Harry's mother. Lily Evans Potter had been in the same year as Snape; they must have known each other. Did Snape hate my mother too? Harry asked himself.  
  
Despite having been given a photo album containing pictures of his parents, Harry realized that he still knew very little about them. Maybe he could ask Lupin about his parents sometime. He longed to know what they were like, but at the same time, Harry worried that the topic of his parents might be a rather painful subject for Lupin, who had been close friends with James and Lily Potter.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
Hermione caught Harry's attention by sharply nudging his elbow (causing Harry to wince) and saying, "C'mon, Harry, or we'll be late for Potions!" Hastily cramming the last of his toast into his mouth, Harry snatched up his bag and hurried to follow Ron and Hermione towards the dungeons.  
  
As they entered the gloomy classroom where Potions lessons took place, Ron scowled. Draco Malfoy was slouching arrogantly against a desk, flanked by his massive cronies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.  
  
"Well, if it isn't Potty, the Weasel, and the Mudblood," sneered the blond- haired Slytherin. Beside him, Crabbe and Goyle chuckled inanely.  
  
Ron's face turned as red as his hair, and he barked, "Sod off, Malfoy!"  
  
Unfortunately for Ron, Professor Snape had just entered the classroom.  
  
"Ten points from Gryffindor, Weasley!"  
  
"But Professor, Malfoy-"  
  
"Another five points for talking back to a professor. And Weasley," added Snape in a soft but dangerous voice. "Unless you wish to start the year off with negative house points, I suggest you remain silent for the duration of class."  
  
The Gryffindors exchanged mutinous looks, but did not say anything as Snape began writing the ingredients they would need on the board. Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins appeared quite smug at seeing their Head of House bully the Gryffindors.  
  
"Doubtless you've all forgotten most everything you know about Potions over the summer. If such is the case, you'll have to revise on your own. Class this year will be geared primarily towards preparing you for the OWLs; I refuse to waste class time revising material you should already know. Though some of you, I fear, are incapable of ever understanding Potions."  
  
This last remark was directed towards Neville Longbottom, who habitually managed to melt several cauldrons a year. Neville cowered as Snape directed his glare towards him.  
  
With a minimal amount of noise, the class began slicing ingredients and preparing their potions. Halfway through the class, a loud BOOM filled the classroom as Neville Longbottom's cauldron emitted a cloud of smoke and began to melt all over the dungeon floor. Several students shrieked and panicked as they frantically moved away to avoid being covered with the botched potion.  
  
In the ensuing confusion, several students accidentally bumped into Harry, who had been working alongside Neville. Everyone was too distracted to notice the grimace of pain that flickered across Harry's thin face. Except, that is, for Professor Snape. His dark eyes caught Harry's brilliant green ones for a brief moment with an unreadable expression. Snape quickly restored order to the class, and the students returned to work.  
  
After an unbearably long two hours, the class had finished making their potions (Snape had taken twenty points from Gryffindor for Neville's melted cauldron). Not wanting Snape to be able to find another excuse for deducting points, Harry had been meticulous with his potion. Watching his classmates struggle with the assignment, Harry tried to figure out what they were doing wrong. Consequently, he was the last student to finish his potion. Miraculously, Snape made no scathing comment about how long Harry had taken. Hermione looked at Harry's cauldron in approval.  
  
"Oh, well done, Harry! Your potion looks perfect!"  
  
Snape, overhearing Hermione's remark, glided swiftly over to where Harry was working, his black robes billowing out behind him. Leaning over Harry's shoulder, he peered into the cauldron.  
  
"So you are capable of brewing a potion correctly, Potter. I never would have dreamed it possible."  
  
Harry sneered in response to the professor's backhanded compliment. The potion had been a particularly complex and difficult one to brew. Even Hermione had had difficulty with it.  
  
"Very well. Class dismissed as soon as you finish clearing up. Potter, stay behind, I want a word with you."  
  
Wondering what on earth he was supposed to have done wrong now, Harry quietly bottled a vial full of his potion, cleared up his ingredients, and put his books back into his bag.  
  
Ron and Hermione looked at Harry apprehensively.  
  
"Go on to Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'll catch up with you later."  
  
Reluctantly, Ron and Hermione turned and left the classroom.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
To be continued…  
  
Please read and review! This is my first attempt at a Harry Potter fanfic. Flames will be used to toast marshmallows over a campfire. (In other words, they're not welcome.) Constructive criticism, however, is appreciated. 


	2. A Conversation

Wow! What a response! I am very flattered. Many thanks for all the lovely reviews! (*Gets a big goofy grin on face*)  
  
I will try to be prompt in updating; my goal is to post at least one new chapter per week, as my schedule allows. Thanks for your patience.  
  
And now, back to the story…  
  
  
  
  
  
1.1 Bellum Domesticum  
  
Chapter 2  
  
  
  
  
  
Ron and Hermione turned and left the classroom, shooting a last anxious glance at Harry before disappearing from sight. Again, Harry wondered why Snape had asked him to stay behind. I haven't done anything wrong, he told himself firmly.  
  
Relaxing somewhat, he even began to feel slightly annoyed. He was going to be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts. With Professor Lupin teaching this year, the class was bound to be an interesting one. And frankly, Harry thought, the sooner I'm out of this miserable old dungeon the better.  
  
The potions master's back was turned to Harry as he wiped the board clean. Snape had changed little over the past four years, a tall, sallow-skinned man with long dark hair that perpetually looked as though it could use a wash. But the most striking thing about Snape was his voice. The man wielded it like a beautiful but deadly knife.  
  
Giving the board a final wipe, the potions professor set down his rag and turned to face Harry. The young wizard nervously ran a hand through his unruly black hair, realizing with a start that Snape's thin face was free of its usual malice.  
  
"So, Potter."  
  
Harry would have dearly loved responding with "So what?" but decided prudently against it. Snape had already taken more than enough points from Gryffindor during the last class, it was best not to risk provoking him into deducting still more points.  
  
"Sit,"  
  
Harry sat.  
  
"Perhaps you'd care to explain the rather uncharacteristic behaviour you exhibited in class today."  
  
Now Harry was beginning to feel a bit nervous again. He tried hard to school his face into one of polite confusion.  
  
"I'm afraid I don't quite follow you, Professor."  
  
Snape gave a soft snort of impatience.  
  
"Don't be daft, boy! The level of skill in preparing potions that I saw you use today was that of at least a seventh year student. When compared with the usual mediocre effort you put forth, the change in the quality of your work was blindingly obvious. I was also astounded to observe that you weren't jabbering away as you usually do to Weasley and Granger."  
  
"Then," Snape continued, his voice growing softer, but still free of malice, "there is the matter of your rather peculiar reaction to when Longbottom's cauldron melted. Having several people bump into you at once is not as painful as the expression on your face indicated."  
  
Harry thought that Snape's black eyes were boring holes into his head. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding Snape's piercing gaze.  
  
"I would wager that you've got some injuries you've taken great care to conceal. I would further wager that you didn't inflict them voluntarily upon yourself, but that a second party inflicted them upon you."  
  
Harry fought to keep himself from squirming uncomfortably.  
  
"I'm not hiding any injuries! I mean, erm, Goyle- accidentally trod on my foot when we were moving away from Neville's cauldron, that's why I grimaced. That's all it was," said Harry quickly, hoping desperately that Snape would believe him.  
  
"Is that so? I seem to recall Goyle being on the other side of the classroom, well away from both yourself and Longbottom's cauldron."  
  
Harry flushed.  
  
"Why not tell me what caused you such an amount of pain, Potter? The truth this time," said Snape, leaning forward to stare at Harry directly in the eyes.  
  
"It was nothing, Professor! You must be imagining things!"  
  
The young wizard hoped his voice sounded firmer to Snape than it sounded to him.  
  
"I am not imagining things, Potter. You are deceiving yourself if you think I don't know you're lying to me, something you've done before on numerous occasions. Don't think I'll tolerate any rule breaking from you this year. Dumbledore may feel fit to turn a blind eye, but I will do no such thing.  
  
"You know, Potter, it never ceases to amaze me how like your father you are. He too thought he could get away with whatever he wanted. Didn't care much for rules, your father. Oh, no, rules were for ordinary people, not Quidittch Champions. He was so full of himself- I wonder what your mother ever saw in him."  
  
"Leave my dad out of it!" growled Harry, rage beginning to well deep inside him.  
  
"I'M NOT MY FATHER, DON'T YOU GET IT? You know, I can't believe you'd hate me like you do just because I'm his son. That's a pretty flimsy excuse, Professor. I had TWO parents, you know. Tell me, did you hate my mother as well? I think it's about time I knew why you REALLY hate me. Is it because I'm famous? I can't help that; I never asked for or even wanted fame. What's the real reason?"  
  
When Harry finished speaking, he found himself on his feet, fists clenched tightly by his sides. His brilliant emerald gaze was directed fiercely at the man before him.  
  
A myriad of emotions could be seen chasing after one another on Snape's sallow face. Anger initially, then alarm, which faded into indignation, grudging respect, and finally, an odd, closed expression.  
  
Snape exhaled slowly, clearly attempting to calm himself.  
  
"Very well, Potter. I'll make you a deal. You tell me the truth about your injuries- yes, boy, I know they're injuries you had before entering my classroom today. In return, I'll tell you why I've singled you out for the past four years. But I won't tell you that I hate you, because I don't."  
  
"Erm, professor- it's sort of a long story, and I'm already late for Defense Against the Dark Arts…"  
  
Snape seemed to take this answer for implied agreement and pressed his advantage.  
  
"Then come by my office this evening at eight o'clock. We'll talk then."  
  
Harry swallowed. He wasn't keen on the idea of telling Snape something so personal. At the same time, though, he was burning to know what Snape had to say.  
  
"Well, Potter?" Snape queried when Harry did not respond for several seconds.  
  
"Okay," said Harry reluctantly.  
  
Standing up slowly, he picked up his bag and hurried off to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Snape's dark eyes followed him as he left the room.  
  
  
  
* * * *  
  
  
  
By the time Harry reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, the class was halfway over.  
  
"Ah, Harry. There you are," said Professor Lupin. "I was beginning to worry about you."  
  
"I'm okay, Professor. I just- had to stay behind in Potions to schedule a detention."  
  
Lupin gave him a sympathetic smile.  
  
"That's all right. Go ahead and take a seat, then."  
  
Harry moved quickly towards Ron and Hermione, who had saved him a seat next to them.  
  
Hermione finished writing something on her notes, and then shoved them in Harry's direction.  
  
"Here, Harry, you can copy my notes."  
  
Harry gave her a grateful smile as he got out his quill and began to copy down the notes Hermione had written in her precise, neat hand. At the top of the parchment, she had written, "What did Snape want to talk to you about?"  
  
"I'll tell you later," Harry wrote underneath.  
  
During this exchange, Professor Lupin had turned back to the board, where he had been writing notes for the class.  
  
"So, can anyone tell me how to distinguish Light magic from Dark magic?"  
  
To Harry's surprise, Ron raised his hand.  
  
"Dark magic- most of it, anyway- has been outlawed by the Ministry of Magic. That's because, er, Dark magic nearly always involves trying to harm someone else."  
  
"Very good, Ron. Five points to Gryffindor."  
  
"But Professor, what about Light magic being used to bring harm to someone else? Like the Disarming Charm. If it's done too forcefully, it could knock your target out," said Hermione.  
  
Harry and Ron fought to conceal smirks at Hermione's last remark. The three of them had once knocked Professor Snape out when they simultaneously cast Expelliarmus on the professor. Lupin had been there at the time, so he also knew what Hermione was alluding to.  
  
"An excellent point, Hermione. The reason you're all here is to learn to control your magic so that you can avoid bringing harm to others. But you're right; all magic has the potential to harm. So use it wisely."  
  
The remainder of the class involved an interesting discussion on the ethics of magic. When class ended, the students filed out, chatting animatedly.  
  
"Come on, let's get some lunch. I'm starving," said Ron.  
  
Harry wasn't very hungry; he was too apprehensive about his meeting with Snape that evening. Maybe this bargain wasn't such a good idea. But then, maybe Harry could convince Snape to tell him what Lily Potter had been like. Coming from Snape, he doubted that it would be anything complimentary. But still, it was better than knowing next to nothing about her.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
End Chapter 2  
  
I had planned to make this chapter a bit longer, but I decided I'd give you all what I've written so far.  
  
*Next chapter: Harry meets with Snape; secrets are revealed. 


	3. The Meeting

I got more reviews! Yippee!!! Thanks for taking the time to review; it's very encouraging to me.  
  
Prophetess of Hearts: You're right about the Challenge rules stating that Harry's supposed to begin undergoing some progressive physical change on his birthday. When I started this fic, I knew he wasn't allowed to suddenly look different, but I forgot that the changes were supposed to begin on his birthday. Oh well, we'll see how this works out.  
  
Now, enough of my chatter. This chapter is nice and long, so enjoy. Here we go, CHAPTER THREE!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The Meeting  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The Great Hall was filled with its usual noisy chatter as students discussed how their first day of classes had gone. Harry, however, was relatively silent as he, Ron, and Hermione sat down at the Gryffindor table.  
  
"How come you were so late to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Harry?" asked Ron.  
  
"Snape and I sort of got into an argument, and he gave me detention for this evening."  
  
Which was partly true. Harry hated lying to Ron, but he wasn't yet ready to tell his best friend the details of his conversation with Snape.  
  
"Trust Snape to give detention on the first day back to school," said Ron.  
  
To Harry's great relief, Ron didn't ask him why Snape had made Harry stay after class in the first place. Hermione, however, looked as though she were about to ask Harry what Snape had wanted to talk to him about. Wanting to distract her, Harry asked, "So what did I miss in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"  
  
The ploy worked.  
  
"It was really a very good class," said Hermione enthusiastically, and she began to relate to him everything Lupin had covered during the first half of class.  
  
"Thank you, Professor Granger," teased Ron when she finally finished several minutes later.  
  
"Eat something Harry, you're too skinny," fussed Hermione.  
  
It was true. Having grown several inches over the summer, his taller stature made him appear quite bony. His face, too, had become more angular, the cheekbones prominent.  
  
"Yeah, your face is getting so thin, it almost makes you look like Snape," smirked Ron.  
  
"That's not funny!" protested Harry. "Here, see, I'll eat, if only so you don't compare me to Snape!" he continued, stuffing a large bite of shepherd's pie into his mouth.  
  
"There you go, 'mione, all you have to do if you want him to eat is say he looks like Snape," said Ron smugly.  
  
Hermione merely rolled her eyes.  
  
Feeling suddenly weary, Harry set down his fork, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. The room seemed to swim for a moment. Harry blinked. I must be tireder than I thought, he told himself.  
  
Between all the chores his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had given him over the summer, combined with staying up all night to complete his homework, Harry had had precious few nights of decent sleep for the last two months.  
  
Shoving the frames onto his nose, he blinked again several times. The room was still blurry. Maybe his glasses were dirty. Removing them again, he polished them on his robe. On a whim, he tried looking around without his glasses. What he saw caused his head to snap back with surprise.  
  
His vision was sharp and clear without his glasses!  
  
Heart pounding, Harry tested his vision with his glasses. Again, the room was blurry. Snatching them off his face, Harry looked once more. He wasn't imagining things. Inexplicably, his vision had corrected itself.  
  
Suddenly he noticed that Ron and Hermione were staring at him oddly.  
  
"Are you all right, Harry?" asked Hermione. "Is something wrong with your glasses?"  
  
"I don't need my glasses any more! I can see fine without them!"  
  
"But you've been wearing glasses for years," Ron pointed out, freckled face filled with skepticism. "Don't tell me your vision's suddenly corrected itself!"  
  
"It's true! It happened just a minute ago!"  
  
This was too weird. Harry had never heard of any instances in which someone went from being nearsighted to having perfect vision in the space of a few moments. Aside from ocular surgery, that is.  
  
Hermione was staring at him thoughtfully. "Maybe this sort of thing has happened to other people before. I'll see what I can find in the library. In the meantime, it might be a good idea for you to see Madam Pomfrey."  
  
"NO!" said Harry forcefully.  
  
Ron and Hermione were taken aback by Harry's response. Noticing the expressions on their faces, he hastened to continue, "I mean, my vision's perfect now. If it had suddenly gotten worse, then I might want to see her, but there's nothing wrong with it now."  
  
"Are you sure, Harry?" asked Hermione anxiously. "This could be really serious, you know!"  
  
"Yeah, but my vision suddenly correcting itself is just one more weird thing about me that I'd rather people didn't know. After all, remember what happened when people found out I could speak Parseltongue."  
  
Harry and Ron remembered all too well. Salazar Slytherin, one of the four founders of Hogwarts, had been famous for being a Parselmouth (someone who could speak to snakes). When the Chamber of Secrets was opened in their second year, most of the school had shunned Harry, believing him to be Slytherin's heir.  
  
"Of course we do, O mighty and terrible Heir of Slytherin," said Ron in a deep voice, attempting to lighten the mood.  
  
Harry forced a short laugh and managed, with a great effort, to direct their conversation away from himself and towards Quidittch. Ron, it seemed, would be trying out for the position of Keeper, as the former team captain and Keeper, Oliver Wood, had graduated. In the meantime, Hermione headed off to the library, muttering about doing some research.  
  
Before Harry knew it, the last class of the day was over, dinner was finished (Harry merely picked at his food), and everyone had retired to their common rooms. Ron and Hermione wished him luck as, filled with dread, Harry headed off towards Snape's office.  
  
By the time he was nearly at his destination, Harry's insides were a mass of knots that kept twisting themselves inside of him. His heart was pounding furiously. He didn't want to be here. What did it matter if Snape was going to explain his attitude towards Harry? It wouldn't change the potions master's behavior towards him.  
  
Feeling faint, Harry leaned against the wall outside the door to Snape's office. Just calm down, he told himself. You can handle this, you've dealt with a lot worse. Pulling himself together, Harry knocked twice on the thick wooden door.  
  
"Come in."  
  
Harry entered, walking slowly towards the chair Snape indicated. He felt as though he were about to face an interrogator of the Spanish Inquisition. Then he noticed that Snape was staring at him oddly.  
  
"What happened to your glasses, Potter? Take a seat, boy, you look as if you're about to faint."  
  
"I'm all right. And I, er, don't know why, Professor, but for some reason I don't need my glasses any more. It just happened at lunch today."  
  
"Very strange," murmured Snape, dark brows furrowed together in thought.  
  
The teenaged wizard was rather surprised that Snape didn't grow angry or accuse him of lying.  
  
"Now, Potter. The reason you are here is that you agreed to tell me how you received those injuries you've been trying to hide in exchange for my telling you why I act the way I do towards you. What I want to establish here and now is that nothing leaves this room. If you wish me to respect your secrets, kindly do the same for me. Agreed?"  
  
Harry swallowed.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So, then. Explain."  
  
So Harry explained, stumbling at first, but eventually managing to pour forth his story coherently in the relief that he was finally getting it off his chest.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Harry had returned to Privet Drive that summer after the Triwizard Tournament as keen on avoiding the Dursleys as they were at hating him. The Dursleys, who were as muggle (non-magical) as one could get, despised Harry for being a wizard. They had, nonetheless, allowed Harry to keep his trunk and school things in his room, something they had only begun to allow the summer before.  
  
"You be sure and tell that godfather of yours that you're perfectly all right, there's no need for him to come check on you," Uncle Vernon had said.  
  
For three weeks, Harry was relatively undisturbed. He stayed in his room a great deal, sending several owls to Ron and Hermione. Given that the Dursleys usually treated Harry like a dog that had rolled in something smelly, the boy fervently hoped that he would be allowed to stay with Ron at the Burrow soon.  
  
Unfortunately, three weeks after Harry had returned home, Dumbledore sent an owl with a letter saying that Harry should remain at the Dursleys for the entire summer, as Voldemort's return made going to Ron's too dangerous.  
  
If Harry was upset about this development, it was nothing to how the Dursleys reacted. They had been hoping for a Harry-free summer, but now that was no longer a possibility. Furious, Uncle Vernon had insisted that Harry 'make himself useful,' loading his nephew down with a multitude of chores, most of which involved vigorous physical labour.  
  
For example, a typical day's work for Harry included cleaning all the windows in the house (inside and out), washing the car ("It had better be spotless!), mowing the lawn, weeding the garden, and pruning the roses. As Harry worked, his whale of a cousin, Dudley, would laze around watching television and taunting Harry.  
  
Harry usually ignored Dudley's taunting, and he was clever enough to make some scornful retorts of his own, most of which took Dudley an unbelievably long time to work out. But after several weeks of this, Harry's temper was stretching towards its breaking point. He finally snapped one afternoon towards the end of the summer, when Dudley made some particularly nasty remarks about Harry's parents.  
  
"You know, it's a good thing Dad's making you work. If he didn't, you'd probably end up as shiftless as your good-for-nothing father."  
  
Harry ground his teeth, willing himself to remain silent and keep his hands away from Dudley's fat neck.  
  
"Yeah, your father was pretty worthless. I bet he only married your slut of a mother after he got her pregnant with you first. Probably wouldn't have married her otherwise."  
  
That last remark was too much for Harry, who tackled his massive cousin and began pounding him furiously with his fists. This was no childhood scuffle. Harry had been beat up countless times by Dudley and his gang as a child, but he was no longer a child, even if he was not yet an adult.  
  
Now the tables had turned, it was Harry beating up Dudley. Through a red haze, Harry was dimly aware of breaking his cousin's nose and blackening both his eyes. Dudley was crying piteously, tears mingling with the smeared blood on his fat face. Then Uncle Vernon was pulling Harry off of Dudley, while Aunt Petunia stood nearby wringing her hands.  
  
"HOW DARE YOU ATTACK MY SON! YOU KEEP YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF HIM, YOU LITTLE BASTARD!"  
  
"Your son," Harry spat, "called my mother- his aunt- a slut!"  
  
"It was no more than she deserved!" snapped Aunt Petunia.  
  
Harry couldn't believe his ears.  
  
"Quite right, dear," added Uncle Vernon. Then he rounded on Harry, a look of menacing glee on his face. "And you, boy. I'm going to teach you a lesson you'll never forget."  
  
The Dursleys had rarely beaten Harry, who was quite unprepared for the whipping Uncle Vernon proceeded to give him. With one beefy hand, he held his struggling nephew by the arm with enough force to bruise. With the other, he brought his thick leather belt- including its heavy metal buckle- down on Harry's skinny shoulders and back.  
  
By the time Vernon finished, Harry's shirt was soaked with blood. Harry had fallen to his knobbly knees during the course of the beating, and now he was ready to collapse. Grabbing Harry by the scruff of his neck, Vernon dragged a stumbling Harry to his room and pushed him inside. Despite the ringing in his ears, Harry could make out the sound of a lock clicking.  
  
"Ha! And you can't magic yourself out, boy, or you'll be kicked out of that freak school of yours!"  
  
I don't have to magic myself out, thought Harry dully. I'll just owl Ron…  
  
But Hedwig was off delivering a letter to Sirius.  
  
At the thought of his godfather, who was in hiding, Harry brightened. Sirius would have no problem dealing with the Dursleys. But then, Harry realized, if Sirius came in person to help him escape, he would probably be sighted and caught. Then he wouldn't just be sent back to Azkaban, he would be given the Dementors' Kiss.  
  
Harry couldn't bear that thought.  
  
Which left Hermione and Ron. If Harry owled Hermione and told her what had happened, she would probably have insisted that the authorities be notified. If he told Ron, then the entire Weasley family would know what had happened. Harry didn't want them thinking he was weak, asking for help. Besides, Dumbledore had said it was too dangerous for Harry to leave Privet Drive.  
  
So Harry told no one. He stayed locked in his room for the next week. As she had done the summer he turned twelve, Aunt Petunia pushed small amounts of food through the cat flap in the door three times a day, and Harry was let out twice a day to use the bathroom. When his friends owled him, Harry insisted that he was fine, he just hated being stuck at the Dursleys'.  
  
Finally, it was the week before September 1st. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had arranged to meet in Diagon Alley to buy their school supplies the day before the Hogwarts Express left. They would spend the night at the Leaky Cauldron, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would escort them to King's Cross Station.  
  
Uncle Vernon, glad to finally be getting rid of Harry, agreed to drop him off in London. And when Harry met up with Ron and Hermione, he hid the fact that his back and shoulders were still bruised and covered with tender scabs.  
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
  
Snape had remained silent throughout Harry's narrative. Harry, who realized he had been staring at the floor instead of looking at the man in front of him, raised his bright green eyes to meet Snape's glittering black ones.  
  
After a long silence, Snape cleared his throat.  
  
"I can imagine you'd rather not go to Madam Pomfrey," he said, sounding slightly awkward. "Now, I'm no mediwizard, but I've had some experience with injuries such as yours. I can't heal them, but I can at least clean them for you and give you a painkilling potion."  
  
"Professor, you won't tell anyone what I just told you?" asked Harry worriedly.  
  
"No. I promised you I wouldn't, and I won't. So, do you want those wounds cleaned or not?"  
  
Harry hesitated. Snape was actually offering to help him?!? On the other hand, a painkiller would be a welcome relief. Deciding that he should take advantage of what was probably a one-time offer, Harry said softly, "All right, Professor."  
  
Gingerly removing his shirt, he turned around so that Snape could clean the cuts on his back and shoulders. The older wizard inhaled sharply when he saw the state of the boy's back. The flesh was crisscrossed all over with angry red cuts, some of them still red and raw, others beginning to form scabs.  
  
"Your uncle certainly did a number on you, Potter."  
  
Harry merely grunted in response, then flinched as Snape took a cloth soaked with a potion and began cleaning the cuts.  
  
"Hold still."  
  
Harry scowled at the professor's stern tone, nevertheless making an effort to remain as motionless as possible. In silence, Snape finished cleaning the cuts with surprisingly gentle hands, and Harry put his shirt back on.  
  
"Here," said the dark-haired man. "Drink this." And he thrust a small bottle containing a watery, greenish liquid into Harry's hand.  
  
Automatically, Harry downed the lot. It tasted horrible, but he soon felt warmth spreading throughout his body, as if he had swallowed a mug of Butterbeer. The pain in his shoulders and back soon faded. He gave an almost imperceptible sigh of relief.  
  
"Now," said Snape. "About why I treat you in class the way I do."  
  
"Professor, what about my mother?"  
  
Snape sighed, a look of grief and guilt washing over his thin face.  
  
"Yes, your mother…"  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
TBC! I'm sorry to leave everyone hanging, but this chapter was getting to be awfully long. Besides, now you've all got something to look forward to. Please review! Your reviews are a major part of my inspiration for doing this fic; they mean a lot to me.  
  
Next chapter: Snape's secret is revealed. 


	4. The Meeting, Part II

Once again, many thanks for all the reviews.  I do hope you all continue to review; it means a lot to me.

**Prophetess of Hearts**: Severitus did write an optional conversation between Remus and Snape.  Although I like it very much, I'm planning to write my own.  Thanks for your reviews!

Bellum Domesticum

The Meeting, Part II

"Yes, your mother…" Snape's voice trailed off.  Then he focused on Harry.  "Potter, you're not going to like what I'm about to tell you.  So before I start, promise me you won't run off until I've finished."

"I promise."

"Do you know the circumstances in which your parents went into hiding from Voldemort, Potter?"

Startled, Harry realised that Snape had not said "You-Know-Who" or "the Dark Lord" in reference to Voldemort, as the rest of the wizarding world was wont to do.

"All I know is that Voldemort was after them.  No one's ever told me why," said Harry, who was wondering where this was leading.

"Your parents were particularly powerful when it came to their magical abilities.  Your father was quite skilled at Transfiguration, and your mother was one of the best Charms students ever to attend Hogwarts."

Harry concealed a grin.  He knew that his dad had been good at Transfiguration.  Very few people, however, were aware that James Potter had become an unregistered Animagus while a student at Hogwarts, a particularly difficult feat.  

"Your father had been actively working against Voldemort as soon as he left Hogwarts.  He managed to thwart several attacks Voldemort had planned to carry out on the Muggle Ministry."

Harry felt a surge of pride at what his father had done.

"Voldemort, to put it mildly, was incensed," Snape went on.  "So he decided to take revenge on your father by attacking those dearest to him.  Your parents were engaged at the time-" Snape stopped, as if something had choked him off.

"Not long before their wedding- just a few months, I think- he sent several Death Eaters to the apartment where your mother was living.  I was one of them," he said heavily.

"Dolohov killed your mother's roommate, a girl named Serafina Bell.  I doubt anyone's told you exactly what happened when Voldemort sent his Death Eaters to attack a place.  They liked to play with their victims before finishing off- I vividly remember Rosier casting the Cruciatus Curse on Bell several times," the wizard shuddered in remembrance.  

"What- did he do anything to my mum?" Harry whispered.

Snape laughed bitterly, a short, ugly sound.

"He was going to kill her outright, to spite your father.  Your mother and I had been friends of a sort when we were students together.  She always seemed to think there was some good in me.  After seeing what Rosier had done to Bell, I knew I couldn't stand for the same thing to happen to your mother."

Harry listened intently, green eyes wide.

"I persuaded him not to kill her.  I told him- I told him it would hurt James Potter more to know that his fiancé had been raped and had seen her roommate tortured and killed.  Potter would become so incapacitated with fear for his loved ones that he would become incapable of continuing to work against the Dark Lord."

"You didn't-" Harry began in a strangled voice.

"Let me finish.  Dolohov and Rosier were perverts; I knew they enjoyed rape, enjoyed inflicting pain on others.  So I volunteered to be the one to rape her, and I told them to leave, I would meet up with them later when I was through.  I hoped that if they left, I wouldn't have to- I could just wait a bit, then leave.

"They were already suspicious of me, so they insisted upon waiting outside and leaving together.  I tried to change their minds, but they wouldn't budge.  It was either rape her or kill her, they said.  So I had to follow through.  I had hoped not to rape her, but once there was no other choice, I tried to ensure that she suffer as little as possible.  

"I was so ashamed of myself afterwards that I went straight to Dumbledore fully believing he would turn me over to the Ministry.  I insisted that he give me Veritaserum.  I confessed everything to him.  I was put in Azkaban for about a month, until Dumbledore convinced the Ministry that I should be released to work for him as a spy.  

"Your mother, for her part, never told James that I had raped her.  They married sooner than they had planned to, no doubt because James wanted her under his protection.  You were born about a year later, and your father continued to work against Voldemort.  

"You may be wondering what all this has to do with how I treat you in class.  It's not because I hate you; I already told you I don't.  It's because you remind me of something I wish I could forget.  You look so much like your father that every time I see you I'm reminded of what I did to him and your mother."  

"Although, without your glasses you don't look nearly as much like him," Snape added, looking at Harry thoughtfully.

"You asked me earlier if I hated you because you were famous.  The answer is no; I don't resent your fame.  But what I do resent is that your mother's giving her life for you to stop the Killing Curse is never given credit.  Your mother was a strong, talented, remarkable woman.  I'm sorry you never got to know her," he finished.

Harry's mind was reeling from everything he had just heard.  Snape had raped his mother.  Harry didn't know how to react; he was awash with conflicting emotions.  One part of him was furious at Snape; the other sympathized with the shame and guilt Snape had felt.  But at the moment, anger was the dominant emotion.

"Yes, and it's thanks to Voldemort and his Death Eaters- like YOU- that I never got to know my parents!  I might have even have had an older bastard half-sibling thanks to you- I'm sure my mum would have loved that!  Who knows, I might even be your bastard!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter, you look too much like James to be my son," snapped the older wizard.

But Harry was feeling too obstinate to drop the issue.

"Not any more, I don't!  You yourself said just a moment ago that I don't look like him so much without my glasses.  And how do you explain my vision suddenly correcting itself today?"

"When's your birthday, Potter?" queried Snape suddenly.

"What?" asked Harry, momentarily surprised out of his anger.  

"Your birthday, when is it?" repeated Snape, as if he were talking to a very stupid person.

"July 31st, w-why?"

Snape paled.  "No wonder she wanted the wedding sooner," he muttered.  

"Professor, why did you want to know my birthday?" asked Harry, impatient.

"Suppose I told you it was November when I raped your mother," said Snape.

"I don't see what that-"

"Don't you see, boy, if you were born in July, you must have been conceived in November!"

Now it was Harry's turn to pale.

"So you think it might be true, then, that I could be your son?" he asked quietly.

He managed to keep his voice from shaking, but he was unable to extend the same control to the rest of his body.

"I- I hadn't really considered it.  I thought you would tell me your birthday was in September or October.  I never thought-" Snape broke off to stare at Harry a bit wildly.

"You should have thought when you raped my mother," said Harry coldly.

"Oh, believe me, I've thought," chuckled Snape bitterly.  His dark eyes were filled with grief and guilt.  "I've had fifteen years to regret what I've done."

"What if I really am your son?" asked Harry softly.  

Snape rubbed his furrowed brows.

"I suppose- if you really want to know- there's a test that can be done.  It's called the Paternis Veritas test.  It's got to be administered by a third party, though.  I'm willing to do it, if you agree."

This time, Harry couldn't keep his voice from shaking along with the rest of him.

"I- I agree," he whispered.

"Who do you want to administer the test?" asked the older wizard.

"I guess- Dumbledore."

Harry's stomach was churning, and he felt faint again.  He avoided looking at the disgusting bottled objects that lined the shelves above the potions master's head.

"Very well."  Severus peered at him more closely.  "Do you feel all right?  You look as if you're about to faint again."

"I feel like it," replied Harry honestly, a note of desperation in his voice.  "But I've got to know the truth.  I feel like I'll go mad if I don't." 

"Do you feel well enough to walk up to Dumbledore's office?"

"Yes," said Harry firmly.

"Wait just a moment," Severus took out a cup from a cabinet and walked into the nearby potions classroom.  When he returned, the cup was filled with water.  "Drink it."

Harry downed the glass.  At the first sip, he felt himself steady.

"Ready?" 

Harry nodded.

The walk to Dumbledore's office seemed incredibly long.  Neither wizard spoke; the air fairly seemed to crackle with tension around them.  

With a start, Harry realised they had reached the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office.  

"Acid pop," muttered Snape.

The gargoyle sprang to life, jumping aside.  Harry and Snape stepped through the gap in the walls and onto the moving spiral staircase.

"Albus?" called Snape

"Ah, Severus, come in.  What can I do for you?  And Harry?  Is that really you?  I almost didn't recognize you without your glasses.  You've changed quite a bit over the summer."  

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled at them from behind his half-moon glasses.

"Albus, we were hoping you'd perform the Paternis Veritas test for us," said Severus.  His voice sounded slightly strained.

Harry caught the strained note and frowned.  If the test showed that Snape was his father, what would happen?  Would Snape acknowledge him as his son?  Did Harry even want Snape to acknowledge him?

"I was wondering when you two would decide to perform that test," said Dumbledore.

"You knew-" choked out Severus.

"I knew of the possibility that Harry might be your son," admitted Dumbledore, absentmindedly stroking his long white beard.   "When you handed yourself over to me and renounced being a Death Eater, you insisted upon a full confession under the influence of Veritaserum.  

"It was then that you told me what had happened after Serafina Bell was killed.  But when I first saw Harry, he looked so much like James that I assumed he was James' son.  Now though…I wonder.  Very well, let's do that test."

Taking a goblet of plain water, Dumbledore placed it on the desk in front of him.  

"I'm going to need a drop of blood from each of you," he said.  With a wave of his wand, he transfigured two sheets of parchment into pins.  Taking the first pin, he held Harry's middle finger over the goblet and extracted a drop of blood, which fell into the water with a soft plopping sound.  With the other pin, he did the same to Severus.

"Now, Harry.  I'll cast the charm over the goblet.  If Professor Snape is, in fact, your father, the drops of blood will blend together and float to the top of the water.  If he is not, the drops will separate and float to the bottom of the goblet."

Taking up his wand once again, Dumbledore held it parallel to the surface of the water, slowly drawing a clockwise circle.  Softly but clearly, he intoned, "Paternis Veritas!"

Slowly, the drops of blood drew together and floated to the surface of the water.  Harry stared at the goblet in stunned disbelief.  It was true…Snape was really his father.

Harry was dimly aware of Dumbledore saying something to him.  He staggered to his feet, but a wave of dizziness washed over him and the world went black.    


	5. Awakening

I'm back!  Sorry to keep everybody waiting; I was out of town and couldn't work on this fic.  Once again, THANK YOU all for reviewing.

Bellum Domesticum

Chapter 5: Awakening

Harry slumped, unconscious, to the floor.

In alarm, Severus rushed forward to catch him, narrowly preventing the boy from hitting his head on Dumbledore's desk.  Carefully, he eased Harry onto the sofa, propping the young wizard's head with some pillows.

"He's been feeling unwell ever since he entered my office this evening, Headmaster.  Looked as though he were going to black out several times.  I'm sure this- news- was just the last straw it took for him to collapse like this."

"We'd better take him to Madam Pomfrey, then."

"No, I don't think-"

Severus' reply was cut short as he suddenly clutched his left forearm, suppressing a hiss of pain.

"Albus, he's calling.  Merlin, I hate to leave now-"

"Go.  He might grow suspicious if you don't.  We'll talk when you get back.  For now, let's keep Harry's parentage a secret."

Wordlessly, Severus nodded, and with a swish of black robes, he hurried from the office.

*          *          *

The first thing Harry noticed when he awoke was that he felt very groggy, as if he had just come out of a very deep sleep.  Why was he in the hospital wing?  He vaguely remembered passing out, but he couldn't recall how.  Eyes still heavy with the tiredness that permeated his entire body, he automatically stretched out his hand to find his glasses.  Then he remembered that he didn't need them any more.

As if he had been suddenly doused with ice-cold water, the events of the past day hit him.

He had told Snape about the Dursleys.  And Snape- Snape, who was a former Death Eater and had raped Harry's mother- was his _father_.

Bitterly, Harry wished he had simply kept his mouth shut.  If he had done so, his life would still be normal- well, as normal as it ever was.  It had been bad enough finding out that James Potter wasn't his father.  But it was worse learning that he was the product of a rape, and that his actual father was a man who had taken great pleasure in attempting to get Harry expelled and in ridiculing him mercilessly.

There was no telling what would happen now.  

Harry recalled running away from the Dursleys before his third year at Hogwarts.  Maybe he could do that now.  He could renounce being a wizard, could leave the wizarding world, where he was famous.  Then he wouldn't have to face whatever lay ahead of him…  

But Harry knew that he loved the wizarding world too much to give it up.  Despite Voldemort, despite people like Draco Malfoy, and despite such boring classes as Divination, Harry loved Hogwarts.  It was his home.

But now, with the knowledge that Snape was, in fact, his father, Harry no longer knew where he stood.  

Feeling rather helpless, he sat up and pushed aside the curtains that had been drawn around his bed.  It felt very strange to have clear vision without his glasses perched on his nose.

"Ah, Harry.  You're awake," came Dumbledore's voice.

The Headmaster came over from the doorway where he was standing to sit beside Harry's bed.

"What time is it?"

"Ten o'clock.  Harry, about what was discovered last night-" Dumbledore began gently.

"I don't want to talk about it," said Harry shortly.  Then, feeling his response to be a bit rude, he continued, "I wish I had never asked to do that test…"

The white-bearded wizard's face was sympathetic.  

"You could, of course, pretend that none of this had ever happened.  It would certainly make things easier.  But consider, Harry.  You'd be living a lie, denying a part of who you are.  It is better to face the truth, no matter how painful it may be."

Reluctantly, Harry nodded.

"Professor, what's going to happen now?" he asked, running a hand through his black hair nervously.  With a start, he noticed that it was no longer so unruly.  Rather, it was straighter, and the hairs felt finer.

Dumbledore sighed, the twinkle leaving from his blue eyes.

"We're going to have to keep your parentage a secret, at least for the time being.   All that's keeping your father out of Azkaban is his role as a spy.  If Voldemort discovers that you are Severus' son, he will no longer trust your father and may very well kill him.  

"And the Ministry- the circumstances of your birth are such that the Ministry will probably not hesitate to throw your father back into Azkaban.  They already distrust him enough for having been a Death Eater, even though he's proven, more than once, that he holds no loyalty towards Voldemort.  Cornelius Fudge can be so blind at times…" 

Dumbledore's voice held a note of disgust at the mention of the Minister of Magic.

"What does Sn- what does my- my father think about all this?" Harry fairly spat the word "father."

"I think he wishes he could give up his role as spy and let you, if you wish to, live with him.  I know you and the Dursleys are not exactly fond of each other.  But you should ask him yourself; the two of you need to talk."

"I have nothing to say to him," Harry said stubbornly.  He knew Dumbledore was right, but the thought of facing his father was something he couldn't handle just yet.

"Harry," said Dumbledore, gently but firmly, "you must give him a chance.  The two of you may not have gotten along very well before, but you cannot afford to hate each other, especially now that Voldemort has returned.  Your father does care about you, you know, in his own way."

"I still hate what he did to my mother," the teenaged wizard replied, green eyes looking slightly sullen.

"As does he.  He is not a Death Eater at heart.  I'm sure you realize that his favoring the Slytherins is part of the role he plays as spy.  I know your father well; he's a good man, though it may not be readily evident.  You really ought to get to know him."

"I'll talk to him," came Harry's reluctant assent.  He didn't really think Snape would give _him _a chance though.  The man would probably like to ignore the fact that Harry was his son.

But then, during his meeting with Snape last night, the man's behavior had been completely free of malice.  He hadn't ridiculed Harry; he had even been- well- _kind_ to him, cleaning the cuts on his back and giving him a painkilling potion.  Maybe his father didn't hate him after all.

Suddenly Harry realized that he didn't really know that much about Sn- no, his _father_- at all.  He knew that Snape had been in Slytherin and that he had disliked the Marauders, James Potter's group of friends.  He also knew that Severus Snape and Sirius Black hated each other with a passion.

"Oh, no!  Professor, what'm I going to tell Sirius?  He and my- my father hate each other.  I don't want to think what he might do-"

"It's your decision whether or not to tell him, Harry.  Personally, I find that the truth is always preferable.  There is also the matter of your appearance.  It _is_ changing, as I know you've noticed.  You're beginning to look less and less like James Potter."

At that, Harry frowned.  

"How come, up till now, I've always looked like James if I'm not really his son?"

Dumbledore sat back, rubbing his long crooked nose.

"I'm afraid I can't give you a definite answer on that one.  I suspect, though, that your mother must have cast some sort of charm over you when you were born.  She was an excellent Charms student when she attended Hogwarts."

"Erm, Professor, if I start looking more like Snape, people will start to figure it out, won't they?"

"Yes, and the problem is that you're already beginning to resemble Severus.  We need some way of disguising you so that you'll continue to resemble James Potter.  I wonder…yes, I think a modified Mirror Charm should do the trick."

"What's a Mirror Charm?" queried Harry.  His insides were beginning to feel queasy.

"It makes one resemble someone else.  In your case, you would take on James Potter's appearance, while maintaining some of your actual features, such as your scar and the colour of your eyes.  I don't know what we can do about your glasses.  I was never very good with optical charms."

As Dumbledore spoke, a feeling of helplessness and nausea coursed through Harry.  He hated not being in control of himself, and he was very uncomfortable about the idea of not being able to control his changing appearance.  At the same time, he wished he didn't have to disguise it, he was curious to know what he looked like now.

Just then, Madam Pomfrey bustled over to check on Harry.  

"I'm giving you a dose of Pepper-up Potion, Mr. Potter.  Best thing I know of for fainting spells.  You still look too pale.  Now, shoo, Headmaster, this boy needs his rest."

With a mock long-suffering expression on his face, Dumbledore rose from his seat.

"You are excused from classes for the day, Harry.  Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, I believe, are quite anxious to see you, but Poppy here has banned them from the hospital wing until this evening. I'm afraid I have to ask you not to tell them what we've discussed.  I'll be back around tea-time.  I know Professor Snape wants to talk to you as well.  He has said, however, that he will wait until you are ready to see him."

The Headmaster placed a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder.

"We'll sort this out.  I'll be here to help the two of you through this."

Harry swallowed, a lump forming in his throat.

"Okay," he said, forcing himself to give a wry half-smile.

With a last gentle squeeze of Harry's shoulder, Dumbledore turned and left the hospital wing.

*          *          *

Author notes: I know this chapter was kinda short, but I'll have another one posted within a few days.  For those of you wondering what the title means, I'll give you a clue: "Bellum" is Latin for war.

Please review!


	6. Tangere ulcum

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**Jstarz927**: Thanks for reviewing.  I'm really glad you like it.

**Raven-eyes**:  I'm not telling!  (Cackles evilly)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bellum Domesticum

Chapter 6: Tangere ulcus

Severus stalked into his office an hour or so past noon on the second day of term, slamming the door forcefully behind him.  Wearily, he sank down into a chair, holding his head in his hands and rubbing at his throbbing temples.  Never had the first day of term been so eventful.  His meeting with Voldemort, coupled with the discovery that Harry was his son, had left him shaken.  Needless to say, he had not slept well last night.

Potter- no, _Harry_- was his son.  And he had done nothing but try and make the boy's life miserable ever since that first Potions class five years ago.  

True, he was supposed to discriminate against the Gryffindors as part of his spying role, but he had gone out of his way to bait Harry.  He had taken every opportunity to ridicule the boy, to deduct points, to try and get him expelled.  Part of it was the torment of seeing James Potter's face, albeit with Lily's bright green eyes, whenever he looked at Harry.  James Potter, who had saved Snape's life, and whose wife Snape had raped.  _If Harry ever accepts me, it'll be a miracle_, thought Severus.

And if Harry _did_ accept him, what then?  Unless Severus managed to be released from his spying duties, he and Harry would have no choice but to act as though they still despised each other.  Which recalled Severus to the problem of Harry's changing physical appearance.  He hoped Albus had come up with a solution that would enable Harry to continue resembling James Potter.  If people started to see a resemblance to Snape in Harry's facial features, the magnitude of the consequences could not be understated.  

Severus had to admit, though, that he was curious to see whatever Harry's true appearance was.  The boy had Lily's eyes for certain, but the structure of his face was beginning to look like Severus' own.  And Harry's mannerisms…there had been something reminiscent of Lily in the way the boy had insisted on doing the Paternis Veritas test sooner than later.  His son had Lily's Gryffindor courage.  _God, of course he does, with what he's been through_, thought Severus.  The boy had faced down Voldemort no less than three times since coming to Hogwarts, had won the Triwizard Tourament, and hadn't been afraid to knock Snape out with the Disarming Charm.  Severus smiled ruefully at the last.

There was no doubt his son was someone he could be proud of.  Knowing that Harry was _his_ son and not Potter's made Severus' feelings towards the boy all the more confused.  He wasn't sure how to feel about Harry, but Severus _did_ know that he needed to talk to his son.  The boy's identity had just been stripped away from him; Merlin knew what he must be feeling.

"Severus."

The potions master's reverie was interrupted by the soft voice of Albus Dumbledore.

"Go away, Albus."

"Severus, I know last night was rough on you.  But we need to discuss a course of action.  This can't be put off; your safety and Harry's may depend upon it."  The old wizard's voice was still soft, but it contained a note of steel.

Severus winced.  Dumbledore knew Severus was unwilling to compromise Harry's safety, however much he might disregard his own.  A wave of resentment and self-loathing washed over the potions master.  Damn the Ministry for making him do their dirty work by spying, and damn himself for the sins he had committed that had got him- and Harry- in this mess.

Sighing, he said, "Come in, then."

When the door was shut, Severus asked, "How is Harry, Albus?"

"He's holding himself together admirably well.  I spoke to him just a few hours ago.  He's understandably upset by the news, but he's beginning to reconcile himself to it.  Physically, he still looks a bit peaky.  I think it's a side effect of the wearing off of whatever charm Lily must have cast on him to make him resemble James.  He's starting to look like you, you know."

Severus' dark eyes widened.

"Did he- did he say if he would talk to me?"

"He said he would.  I'm going back to the Hospital Wing around four o'clock to cast a modified Mirror Charm on him.  Hopefully that will make him continue to look like James but still retain the scar and the colour of his eyes.  Why don't you go up and see him sometime before then?  Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley will be there in the evening, and it might be hard to explain your visiting Harry in the Hospital Wing if you ran into them."

"Yes, I- I think I'll do that."

"In public, you will, unfortunately, have to continue to treat him as you always have.  Be sure to let him know that, but also be sure to let him know it is an act."

"I know," said Severus, a trace of bitterness at the necessity of the charade in his voice.      

"How are _you_ holding up, Severus?"

The potions master blinked in surprise at the question.

"Come now, Severus.  Harry's not the only one who had a shock last night.  Furthermore, you had a Death Eater meeting.  It can't have been easy; you look as though you haven't slept a wink"

"I haven't," muttered Severus, a tired yawn escaping him.  

His next words were more serious.  

"Voldemort's still after Harry, Albus.  He thinks Harry made him lose face by escaping the trap he and Crouch set during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament last year."

"Does he have any definite plans yet?"

"Not that I know of.  He just said 'Potter will be eliminated.'  He didn't say how or when."

Dumbledore frowned.  "That's worrying.  Do you think he's beginning to suspect that you're a spy?"

Severus let out a frustrated breath.  

"I'm not sure.  I think he knows someone's leaking information, but I don't think he knows who."

"Be careful, Severus.  I don't want you getting hurt or caught."

"The Ministry doesn't care, so long as I bring them information," growled Snape bitterly.  "They're still not convinced I'm truly not loyal to Voldemort."

"That is one of their failings," agreed the Headmaster calmly.  Those in the Ministry he had managed to convince of Voldemort's return had wanted Snape immediately thrown back into Azkaban on the suspicion that Snape was still loyal to Voldemort.  Dumbledore had managed to convince them not to do so, on the condition that the potions master return to spying.  Only a relative few, among them Arthur Weasley, had protested that, prior to Voldemort's fall thirteen years ago, Snape had done more than enough to prove he held no more loyalty to the Dark Lord.

"Well, I must be off.  I would suggest going to see Harry now.  I'll be by the Hospital Wing around four to do that Mirror Charm, if you need me."

Severus swallowed, doing his best to conceal his nervousness.

"Thank you, Albus."

"Not at all, my friend." Dumbledore clapped the potions master on the shoulder and exited the office, leaving the younger man to steel his nerves in preparation for meeting Harry.

*          *          *

Harry had given up reading to pass the time; trying to focus on the print made him feel dizzy.  His bones hurt, a feeling similar to having swallowed a dose of Skele-Gro.  In an effort to distract himself, he had taken to lying on his back, staring at the ceiling and simply thinking.

Many times before, Harry had wished for a parent to talk to.  Having his godfather nearby last year had been some comfort, but Harry knew that Sirius couldn't contact him often for fear of being tracked down and caught.  Now, Harry thought, I have my own father for a professor at school.  Whether or not his father was the sort of person Harry could talk to was another matter entirely.  

Then there was the matter of his appearance.  He was undeniably curious as to how it was changing, but he dreaded looking at his reflection.  He that Dumbledore would be casting the Mirror Charm on him later that day.  Had he really changed that much?  Apparently so, if Dumbledore felt a disguise was necessary.  _Better go see what I look like without the disguise_, he thought.  _Might be my last chance in a long time_.

Harry swung his legs out of bed, ignoring as he did so the way the world spun around him.  Standing up, he had to support himself on the chair by the bed for a moment until he could steady himself.  Drawing a few deep breaths, he headed determinedly towards the bathroom, where there was a mirror.

Standing in front of it so as to get a good look at his face, he stared apprehensively at what he saw.  The most obvious difference from his usual appearance was, of course, the absence of his glasses.  His eyes were still the same brilliant green, the colour accentuated by dark lashes, and his dark eyebrows were narrower and arched slightly.  The shape of his eyes, though not the colour, was clearly inherited from his father.  The cheekbones looked higher and more prominent.  _Like Snape's_, Harry thought.  

Thankfully he didn't have Snape's hooked nose, although there was something of his father about the jaw and chin.  Harry's hair, too, was different.  It was still very dark, but it was straight and no longer unruly.  Without it sticking out every which way, it lay flatter against his head and looked longer.  It also looked softer and finer, and where the light caught it there were reddish highlights.

Harry swallowed painfully, a wave of nausea washing over him.  Unable to look at his reflection any longer, he hurried from the bathroom and back to his bed, tears blurring his eyes.  Seeing his changed reflection was just one more tortuous reminder of the reality that Snape was, in fact, his father…that Harry was no longer who he had always thought himself to be.

Curling up on his side, he clutched a pillow to himself, screwing his eyes shut against the tears that threatened to fall.  He had managed to keep himself from crying in the aftermath of the Triwizard Tournament, in which Cedric Diggory had been murdered and Voldemort had returned.  But last night's discovery was far more personal, and hit closer to home than Harry liked to admit.

Drawing a shuddery breath, he forced himself to release the pillow and dry his eyes.  As he did so, he heard soft footfalls outside the curtains that surrounded his bed.  Composing his face, he yanked them aside.  It was Snape.

Harry started visibly at the sight of his father, who involuntarily took a step backwards at the boy's reaction.  With slight surprise, Harry noted that the man looked nervous.  It was not an emotion one usually associated with Snape, but then the situation at the moment was not exactly usual.  _At least he's not sneering at me_, he thought.

For a long moment, the two studied each other.  Harry, the image of his changed appearance still fresh on his mind, was struck anew by the resemblance between himself and his father.  He was also anxious to know what Snape planned to do about the whole situation.  Snape, for his part, seemed almost dazed by Harry's different appearance.  It was clear that, to keep people from suspecting that he and Harry were related, a disguise would be necessary.  Finally, Severus drew a deep breath and spoke.

"Harry, we need to talk."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[A/N:]  That's all for now, folks!  

I'll be gone 'till the end of June and unable to update.  After that, though, I should be able to update about twice a week.  In the meantime, PLEASE review this chapter!  It really means a lot to me and is a great deal of what keeps me going on this fic.


	7. Quid faciendum?

[A/N]: I'm baaaa-ack!  (All right, that was utterly juvenile.  So what?  Everyone's entitled to their bit of silliness!)  I would have tried to post earlier, but fanfiction.net was down.  From now on, I should probably be able to continue to update about once, maybe twice a week for at least the next few months. 

Thanks and hugs to everyone who reviewed.

**Luna Rose/Phoenix Child: **Thanks for your constant reviews, I really appreciate them.

**Ariana Deralte: **The title of chapter six, "Tangere ulcum," is Latin for "To touch a sore" or "To touch a wound."  Thanks for reviewing!

**Saerry Snape: **Thanks for the review!  I've read some of your fics and enjoyed them very much.

**hermionegranger: **Again, thanks for reviewing.

PLEASE REVIEW!!!  It helps me focus my writing and can prevent me from making plot errors, plus it really means a lot to me to see your comments.  Ta.

So, on with our story…

Chapter 7: Quid faciendum?

"Harry, we need to talk," said Severus.

Silently, Harry nodded.  He didn't trust himself to speak.

_I really do resemble him.  There's more of my mum in me than before, too.  _Somehow, the resemblance between himself and Snape seemed much more natural than that which Harry had formerly had to James Potter.  It was as though Harry were less of a carbon copy of James and more clearly the son of both Lily Potter and Severus Snape.  

"I suppose Dumbledore told you this has to remain a secret," Severus began awkwardly, taking a seat in the chair beside the bed.

Again, Harry nodded without saying anything.  _I knew it.  He'd as soon keep it that way forever, so he can just pretend it never happened._

"I don't want to pretend that what we found out last night never happened, though," his father continued.

"Why not?  Because Fudge will have your hide if he finds out just how I happen to be your son?" asked Harry coldly.  Internally, he winced the moment the words left his mouth.  That was a low blow, and he knew it.  But he didn't want to take it back, either.

"No, boy, because _you'll_ be caught in a tug-of-war between Voldemort and the Ministry, and neither I nor Albus have the slightest idea what to do if that happens," snapped Snape, sounding to Harry for a moment like the irascible, sarcastic Potions Master he had always known his father to be.

Harry flushed in embarrassment.  "Oh," he said, and Severus' face softened just a bit.

"D'you really think Fudge would use me as a pawn?" Harry asked quietly.  Fudge had, after all, refused outright to believe that Voldemort had returned.

His father's dark eyebrows narrowed, though Harry didn't think the anger was directed at him.  "Yes," he said shortly.  "Damn the man," he added under his breath.  It was clear to Harry that Severus disliked Fudge; apparently, Severus' loyalty truly was to Dumbledore, not the Minister of Magic or Voldemort.

That was somewhat comforting.  But Harry was still uneasy as to exactly what Snape planned to do now.  The man was so confusing.  Harry had always known Snape to be sarcastic and cruel, but the latter's behavior over the past few days was markedly mellower.  In fact, ever since Snape had seen Harry's injuries, the man seemed to be making an effort to avoid baiting the boy.

"So-what's going to happen now?" asked Harry, trying to prevent the trepidation he felt inside from leaking out into his voice.  He fidgeted with the bedclothes, some of his inner turmoil expressing itself as he twisted a corner of the sheet back and forth between his fingers.  The digits were, he noticed, longer and shaped differently than before.

Severus caught the anxious note in the boy's voice and ran a hand through his hair in thought.  What should he say?  He wanted to reassure the boy, partly because the charade they would have to act out required self-assurance from Harry, and partly, he realised, because he genuinely cared about Harry's well-being. 

"In public, I'll have to continue to treat you as I always have, and discriminate against you and the rest of Gryffindor House.  No one must know that our relationship is other than what it has always appeared to be.  But Harry," said Severus seriously, "the way I treat you in public is only an act.  Don't forget that."

Harry nodded, unsure of what to say.  

"Unfortunately, you'll have to disguise your appearance.  Dumbledore's taking care of that.  You look- too much like me for a disguise to be unnecessary.  Though…there's a good bit of- of your mother in you as well," Snape's face became closed as he gazed at Harry, and his voice had grown slightly thicker at the last.

Harry studied his father, not quite sure what to make of him.  Ever since Harry had first come to Hogwarts, Snape had avoided mention of Harry's mother.  In fact, the man seemed to get a bit choked up every time he mentioned her.  Snape must have really cared about her, Harry realised.  No one had ever really told Harry what his mother was like, and with a sudden, desperate pang of grief and longing, Harry wished he could have known her.

"How- how am I like her?" he asked quietly.

Severus sucked in a sharp breath, his black eyes focusing intently on his son.

"You have her eyes, of course," he began slowly, meeting Harry's brilliant green gaze.  "She had this long, lovely auburn hair.  There are undertones of it in your own hair, where the light catches it," he added, reaching out to deftly brush a dark strand out of Harry's face.  "But it's your Gryffindor traits that make you most like her: courage, loyalty, determination.  She was extremely gifted in her own right, but she didn't like to draw a great deal of attention to her talents.  Not unlike yourself.  Lily was one of the most caring people I've ever known, she always brought out the best in everybody.  She would have given her life to save those she loved at any time.  As she did for you," Severus said softly.

Harry blinked furiously against the prickling in his eyes, slumping back against his pillows.  He pulled the blanket around himself a little more closely.  His mother had still loved him enough to die for him, even though he wasn't James Potter's son.  It had to be true.  Back in his first year, Harry had been protected from Voldemort's follower, Quirrell, because Lily Potter's love for Harry was so deeply powerful it had left its mark of protection on him.

"How's your back?" asked Severus, recalling the wounds as Harry sat back.

"Better, I think.  It doesn't hurt any more.  Madam Pomfrey didn't find out about it, either."

"Let's see how those cuts are doing, eh?  The potion I put on them last night should have helped heal them significantly, but they should probably be cleaned again if you don't want scars."

"Okay," Harry said, removing his shirt and allowing his father to clean the wounds.  He definitely didn't want more scars; the ones he already had, on his forehead and the on the crook of his right arm, contained bad enough memories as it was.

The boy's back and shoulders did look much improved.  There was no sign of infection, and Severus was pleased to note that several of the cuts that had been open the night before had closed.  New flesh had begun to grow on the closed wounds, which would hopefully not form scars if the potion were effective.  Only time would tell, however.  The wounds had not been treated until several weeks after being inflicted, and scar tissue might have already begun to form.

"What's in the potion?" Harry asked curiously.  He was fairly certain it wasn't one he had learned in Potions class.  

"You tell me," said Severus.  To Harry's surprise, there was a distinct glimmer of mischief in his father's black eyes.  Harry began to suspect that Snape had probably played just as many pranks on the Marauders as they had on him.

The boy studied the small bottle the Potions Master placed in his hand, sniffing the mixture cautiously.

"Erm, let's see..smells like- betony, comfrey…daisy, I think, and-" he sniffed the potion again, "a little bit of centaury."  

"Very good," said Severus, breaking out into a smile.  "I didn't expect you to know that one; your class won't be going over Healing Potions till later on this year.  But then again, if you could pull off a potion like yesterday's, I'm not really surprised."

Harry started to grin in pleasure at the rare compliment, but his face suddenly contorted in pain.  He curled up on his side, trembling violently and clutching his scar.  It was burning to the point that his entire head throbbed, gradually intensifying so that his head felt as though it were being split in two.  Sweat began to pour down his face.

Alarmed, Severus leapt to his feet.

"Harry, what's wrong?  What is it?"

Harry couldn't hear him.  He could no longer make out the images of the hospital wing or his father.  Instead, a vision of an island filled his eyes.  It was surrounded by Dementors, and with a cold feeling inside, Harry knew this must be Azkaban.  To his horror, he made out the image of Voldemort, flanked by the cowering Wormtail.  Voldemort seemed to be talking to the Dementors, but Harry couldn't understand what the dark wizard was saying over the roar of the water.  The Dementor to whom Voldemort was speaking raised one skeletal arm in signal, and more Dementors poured out of the fortress.  An icy claw gripped Harry's heart as he realised that Voldemort was persuading the Dementors to join him.  Even worse, the Dark Lord seemed to have convinced most of the creatures.

"Harry!  Wake up, Harry!"

His father was tapping him hard on the face.  As Harry's eyes flickered open, he leaned back in relief.

"What happened?  Are you all right?" demanded Severus.

"I saw-" Harry's voice came out in a whisper.  His throat was dry.  He tried again.  "I saw Voldemort," he said more firmly.  He fought to keep himself from trembling.  The pain in his head was beginning to fade, but now nausea washed over him again.  "He was at Azkaban.  I think he's managed to convince the Dementors to join him…"

Severus paled.

"Dumbledore will have to be told right away…" he muttered, glancing towards the door as if hoping to see the Headmaster.  Then he caught sight of Harry's face, which had turned a pale, sickly green colour that contrasted sharply with the dark hair surrounding it.  The boy's forehead was damp with sweat, and his breathing was ragged.  Quickly Severus placed the back of his hand against Harry's forehead.

"You're burning up!"

"I think it's just my scar," said Harry.  Gradually, his breathing slowed and became easier, but he was still trembling.  "This has happened before- my scar burning and me seeing Voldemort, I mean.  It'll probably go back to normal pretty quickly."  He started to sit up, but fell back against the pillows.  "Dizzy," Harry muttered.

Taking Harry's wrist, Severus felt the pulse.  It was racing, but it soon began to slow down to a more normal rate.  Soaking a cloth with water from a pitcher, he wrung it out and murmured, "_Frigio_!"  Instantly the cloth cooled, and Severus placed it on Harry's forehead, brushing the damp hair out of the way.

"I've got to talk to Dumbledore, tell him what happened.  I'll be back.  Just try to rest, all right?  Sleep it off."  

"Okay," said Harry.  Aunt Petunia had never watched over him when he was sick.  Knowing that his father was coming back was somehow reassuring, though Harry wouldn't have cared to admit it.  As Severus was about to leave the doorway, the young wizard called out.

"Wait!  Er- can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"What should I call you now?  I mean, 'Professor' in public, obviously, but- well, what about the rest of the time?"

The earnestness and anxiety in Harry's voice did not go unnoticed by Severus.  At the same time, the question hit the Potions Master hard.

"Harry, I won't make you call me anything unless you want to.  I'll understand if you don't want to call me Dad.  And I can't say I'd blame you if you didn't want me as your father, but I'd like to try and be one to you.  This is…going to take some getting used to, for both of us.  If you'd rather not call me Dad till you're more comfortable with the idea, just call me professor or sir.  Agreed?"

"Agreed," said Harry.

*          *            *

"Does he have these visions often?" asked Severus, pacing back and forth in Dumbledore's office.  He had just told the Headmaster of the vision Harry had seen in the hospital wing.  Several of the portraits of former Headmasters and Headmistress were distracted from their dozing at his movement, and they glared at him in annoyance.  

"Only twice that I am aware of; both visions were of Voldemort.  I believe that Harry's scar links him to Voldemort and occasionally enables him to 'listen in' on the Dark Lord, so to speak."

Severus scowled.  He didn't like the idea of a connection between Voldemort and his son.  Furthermore, Severus was reminded that Voldemort was determined to eliminate Harry.  The boy needed to keep a low profile at the moment; any extra public awareness of the fact would only draw attention to the Boy-Who-Lived.  At the same time, Harry needed to be protected.  Hogwarts was fairly safe, but Severus knew it was not impregnable.  Quirrell and Barty Crouch had proved that.  

Severus also knew that living with the Dursleys protected the boy from Voldemort, but after learning of Harry's experience during the summer, he didn't want Harry sent back there if it were at all avoidable.  Ideally, Severus wished Harry could live with him.  _Well, why shouldn't he?  He's my son, after all!_  But with a pang of resentment and guilt, he knew there existed a multitude of obstacles.  Would Harry even _want_ to live with him?  Even if he did, would it be safe?  Would Dumbledore- or the Ministry- allow it?  Severus decided to wait a bit and see how his and Harry's situation progressed before bringing his idea up with Dumbledore.

"I'll be getting back to Harry now, Albus."

Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinkling.  

"Very well, you do that.  I'll be down in a little bit to do the Mirror Charm.  Would you like to stay while I cast it?"

Severus blinked.  He hadn't considered that.  But then again, he wanted to monitor Harry in case the boy became ill once more.

"Yes, I think I would, as long as Harry doesn't mind my being there.  That vision seemed to aggravate whatever's making him ill; I'd like to keep an eye on him in case the Mirror Charm does as well."

"If Harry's illness is a side effect of the wearing off of whatever charm was used to disguise him, perhaps placing the Mirror Charm on him will halt those side effects," Dumbledore suggested.

"Perhaps.  Well, I'll go see how he's doing.  See you in a bit."

*          *            *

Severus was so absorbed in his thoughts as he walked towards the hospital wing that he didn't notice young Draco Malfoy leaving from that direction until he nearly walked straight into the blond-haired Slytherin.  Muttering a hasty apology, Malfoy's Head of House continued on his way, leaving the fifth-year student to stare in astonishment after his uncharacteristically clumsy professor.    


	8. The Mirror Charm

I apologise for the delay in getting this chapter out.  I've been suffering some major writer's block here.  Luckily, I think it's in remission.  In any case, here's chapter eight.  Please review!  Please?

Chapter 8: The Mirror Charm

Severus sat by Harry's bed in the hospital wing, watching as his son slept peacefully.  From time to time he removed the cloth from the boy's forehead, rinsing the piece of material out before casting the cooling charm and replacing it.  Harry no longer felt feverish, but his scar was still hot to the touch.  Gazing at the head of dark hair that rested on the pillow, a sense of wonder engulfed Severus.  This boy- this remarkable boy- was his son.  Whatever had he done to deserve a child like that as his own?  

Gradually Harry began to stir, green eyes blinking open behind dark lashes.  The young wizard was mildly surprised (but secretly a bit pleased) to see his father sitting nearby.  Although Severus had said he would return, a part of Harry had been uncertain that the man actually would.  

"Feeling better?" asked Severus.

"Yes," said Harry, and to his surprise, he did.  His head no longer ached (with the exception of a mild burning sensation in his scar), there was no more nausea or dizziness, and his back was tender but otherwise painless.  "Thanks for coming back," he added.  "I'm glad you did."

"You're looking much better," responded Severus, a smile tugging unbidden at his lips.  

Suddenly he remembered something.

"I just remembered that I bumped into Draco Malfoy on my way up here; he looked as though he were leaving from this direction.  Do you know what he was here for?"  

If Draco were to discover that Harry was Snape's son, the young Slytherin would surely be eager to tell his father, Lucius.  And that was as good as telling Voldemort.  Furthermore, Lucius, with his many connections, might also inform the Ministry, which was potentially as disastrous.

"I don't know," said Harry, a frown crossing his face.  The expression momentarily lent him an uncanny resemblance to Snape.  "I must've been asleep.  But I don't think he could've seen me, because the curtains were drawn."

Severus' shoulders relaxed slightly.  "Let's hope he didn't.  Which reminds me of something else: Dumbledore will be up shortly to perform the Mirror Charm.  Would you like me to stay?  If you'd rather I left, it's perfectly fine, all you have to do is say so."

"No, it's all right with me if you stay.  I don't mind."

Inexplicably, Severus felt a mild relief at those words.  If his son could bear to be around him, things were off to an excellent start.  Maybe the whole situation would work out, after all.

Suddenly Madam Pomfrey's voice could be heard, sounding sharp with exasperation.

"_No_, Miss Granger, Mister Weasley, you may _not_ see Mr. Potter now!  I've already told you both, he is not to be permitted visitors until this evening."

"But, Madam Pomfrey, you let Dumbledore go in.  Can't we at least stay just long enough to give him his homework?  He'll get behind the rest of the class otherwise-"

"For the umpteenth time, Miss Granger, _no_.  You can give it too him this evening.  Now, please leave."

Harry heard a pair of sighs, then the sound of footsteps walking away.

At that moment, Dumbledore appeared in the Hospital Wing.

"Ah, Severus, I see you're still here.  Splendid.  You'll be staying while I cast the charm, then?"

The Potions Master nodded curtly, tension beginning to etch itself back into his harsh features.

Turning to the bright-eyed boy who lay in the hospital bed, the Headmaster asked, "And Harry, you're feeling better, I hope?"

"Yes, thanks, Professor," replied Harry politely.    

"Right then.  First things first, let me explain what I'm going to do.  As you both know," said Dumbledore, gesturing to include Severus, "I'll be casting a modified Mirror Charm.  It should cause you to take on the appearance of James Potter while still retaining your eye colour and that trademark scar of yours."

Harry observed with mild amusement that Dumbledore had launched into professorial lecture mode.

"I'm afraid that, never having had this charm cast upon myself, I can't tell you what it feels like.  From what I understand, however, the sensation is not so extreme as that produced by Polyjuice Potion."

Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled at Harry conspiratorially at that last remark.

"Any questions?"  

Harry and Severus both shook their heads.

"Right then, let's get started.  Harry, I suggest you just sit back and try to relax."

Harry lay back.  

Severus watched the boy's eyes close as Dumbledore began incanting a long stream of unfamiliar Latin words.  Though he was quite competent with Charms, this particular spell was one Severus had never observed before and knew very little about.  He tried to blot from his mind the image of Lily casting such a charm on an infant Harry.  Had she done it to protect James? To protect Harry?  To keep herself from being reminded of the circumstances of the child's conception?  Or was it possible that, upon seeing her infant son for the first time, she had guessed as to who the child's father might be?  _She could have had me arrested at any time.  Why didn't she? _Severus asked himself silently.   

A faint blue glow seemed to surround Harry, growing stronger as the Headmaster softly continued the incantation.  Soon it became difficult to make out Harry's form as the glow intensified and the blue became darker.  Dumbledore uttered a final, sharp word, and the glow abruptly fell away.  

Harry lay motionless on the bed, eyes still shut.   The lightning bolt scar remained on his forehead, but his hair had returned to its accustomed messy state.  The shape of his face, too, was different, almost identical to that of James Potter's.  Though when compared with Snape's mental image of the adult James, Harry looked quite small and young.  

Severus started to move towards his son, but Dumbledore's arm suddenly blocked his way.  Was he imagining things, or was that amusement twinkling in the Headmaster's blue eyes?

"The charm is not completed until he awakens on his own.  If either of us were to touch him, the effects of the spell would transfer to us.  Somehow I don't think you'd fancy looking like James Potter."

Severus was too absorbed by anxiously watching his son to react to Dumbledore's gentle teasing.  To his relief, Harry soon opened his eyes (which were, thankfully, their usual bright green) and asked, "Did it work?"

"Yes," said Severus.  The charm had worked- perfectly.  It was all too easy to imagine that Harry was still the son of his old rival, Potter.  Still the boy Severus had so actively disliked and picked on for four years.  

Dumbledore spoke next.

"Harry, please be sure and tell your father or myself straight away if you have any more dreams concerning Voldemort."

"Okay," said Harry.

"I must be off now.  If you have need of me, you know where my office is."

Harry knew Dumbledore meant well, but he wasn't about to bother the Headmaster with any personal problems he might be having.  He would of course, report any strange dreams or occurrences.

"Erm…all right.  Thanks, professor."

A brief smile flashed behind Dumbledore's long white whiskers, then the old wizard turned and left the Hospital Wing.

Severus and Harry sat in uncomfortable silence for a few moments after the Headmaster left.  Neither seemed quite sure what to say to one another.

"I'd better be leaving as well," Severus finally said, breaking the silence.  "Your friends will probably be-"

Snape broke off as he realised that the expression on Harry's face had suddenly changed to one of abject horror, which was quickly schooled into a mask of neutrality.

"What is it?"

Turning around, Severus saw what had so startled his son.

Fred and George Weasley had entered the Hospital Wing and were frozen in their tracks, staring at Snape and Harry with identical, genuine expressions of utter shock. 

TBC!  Yes, a cliffie, I know, but now that I roughly know how I want the bulk of the next chapter to be, it shouldn't take to long to post it.  Please review Chapter 8!  Many thanks to those who have been constant reviewers of this fic.  It is appreciated.       


	9. You Heard WHAT?

**[A/N]:** I thought I'd explained the Latin titles somewhere earlier, but I looked back at previous chapters and I guess I didn't.  So, in answer to the questions posted by **Erin** and **Jstarz927**, here's an explanation:  _Domesticum_ is Latin for "domestic" or "relating to the home."  So _Bellum Domesticum_ means "Domestic War."  The title of Chapter 6, _Tangere ulcum_, is Latin for "to touch a sore" or "to touch a wound."

I am very flattered by all the reviews.  Thanks!  Please review after reading this chapter as well.

Chapter 9: You heard _WHAT_?

A moment of horribly uncomfortable silence ensued.  Snape and Harry stared at the redheads, who stared right back at them out of identical freckled faces.  To the twins, it must have been a strange sight: the cold, callous Potions Master, at the bedside of a sick student- his least favorite student, to be sure- and holding a civil conversation.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Fred and George of Snape at the same time Snape and Harry asked, "How did you get in here?"

It would have been funny if the situation weren't so serious.

_Damn, _thought Severus.  _This is exactly the type of situation we wanted to avoid.  How in Merlin's name did those two get in here?!?  I thought Pomfrey was supposed to make sure none of Potter's friends came in until this evening!_  His first instinct was to Stupefy then Obliviate the twins (he had already drawn his wand in reflex), but he got the impression Harry would disapprove.  Fred and George were, after all, his friends.  Severus wracked his brains furiously, trying to come up with a plausible explanation for being there.  

Harry, for his part, instinctively thought to attempt to trick the twins into believing he and Snape were actually arguing.  But he knew that, since Fred and George had obviously overheard part of the conversation, they wouldn't buy it.  The twins were too clever for that.  But how much had they overheard?  Did they know that Harry was Snape's son, or was their surprise merely due to seeing Snape acting civilly towards his most-hated student?

"You first," Severus told the twins shortly.  "I believe you owe us an explanation as to why you're in here when Madam Pomfrey specifically said Mr. Potter was not to have any visitors until this evening."

"We came to see Harry-"

"Because we heard he wasn't feeling well, and we thought that-"

"Showing him some of our latest inventions would-"

"Make him feel better," they finished together.

"How'd you get in here?" asked Harry.  Now that he thought about it, Fred and George could not have come through the same doorway Dumbledore had.  But how had they got in, since that was the only visible entranceway?

"Secret passage," said George.

Snape glared at the two of them.

"There's a doorway hidden by that curtain over there that's the exit to a secret tunnel," elaborated Fred quickly.

"Who else knows about that tunnel?" demanded Severus.

"Just us, I think," said George.

"How much did you hear?"

The intensity of the question took the twins aback.

"We heard Dumbledore saying something about telling him or Harry's father if Harry had any more strange dreams about- about You-Know-Who.  But, Professor, that just doesn't make sense… because… well, everyone knows Harry's dad is dead.  You-Know-Who killed him, so how could Harry talk to him?" said Fred.

"Unless…unless Harry's not a Potter.  But everyone says he looks just like his dad, so that doesn't make sense, either," continued George.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, dark brows furrowed in thought.  This was bad.  This was really, really bad.  What was he supposed to tell them?  Perhaps he could just say that Harry's father was alive but leave it at that?  No, knowing the insatiable curiosity of those two, they'd figure it out anyway.

Meanwhile, Fred had grown very still and was staring hard at Snape.

"It's you, isn't it?" he asked quietly.  

Severus' heart thudded painfully in his chest, and his eyes widened barely perceptibly.

"You're Harry's father, aren't you?  He doesn't look like you now, but he did a little bit, yesterday.  I didn't put it together until just this moment…it makes sense, though.  That's why you gave him detention yesterday, that's why you're here now…" the redhead trailed off.

George swallowed.  Then he turned to Harry, who had grown very pale.

"Harry, mate, are you all right?"

Harry knew George meant well, but that didn't prevent him from allowing a flash of irritation to cross his face.

"Oh, I'm _perfectly_ all right," said Harry sarcastically.  "Considering I just found out _last night_ that Professor Snape's my father and that our _lives_ would be endangered if anyone found out, having you two figure it out makes me feel _really_ at ease."

Eyebrows rising in slight surprise, Severus glanced at Harry.  That was exactly the sort of thing he himself would say- since when had his son picked up that brand of sarcasm?  He had never noticed it in Harry before.  _Must've been lying hidden there all these years_, he thought.

Both the twins' ears were turning red now, just like Ron's and Mr. Weasley's did when they were under pressure.  They shifted uncomfortably where they stood, uncertain of what to do or say.

To Severus' surprise, Harry sighed deeply, his expression becoming slightly apologetic.

"Fred, George, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to sound like that.  Well, I did, sort of, but…it's just- this whole thing…you two finding out…and I can't even tell Ron and Hermione about all this…I dunno.  Right now, I haven't the faintest idea what to do about it!" frustration was evident in Harry's voice.  

"Look," said George.  "You _can_ trust us, you know.  We won't blab."  

The twins glanced at Snape earnestly.  He cocked an eyebrow at them, skepticism written plainly upon his face.  

"Professor, Harry's our friend.  We may have a reputation for playing loads of pranks, but we'd never deliberately put him or any of our friends into danger.  And we _can_ keep our mouths shut," added Fred firmly.

Mentally, Harry had to concede that the pair could keep secrets.  After all, they had certainly kept mum about attempting to get their money back after being swindled by Ludo Bagman last year.  But, however slightly, their behavior had still been surreptitious enough that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had noticed something was up.  Could Fred and George truly be trusted not to let something slip with a secret like this?

Harry wasn't as close to the twins as he was to Ron; the twins were-well, twins, and that meant best friends unto themselves.  But he got the impression they could be trusted.  In fact, Harry was fairly certain that any of the Weasleys (except for Percy, who was almost fanatically loyal to the Ministry) could be relied upon.

Looking at his father, he said, "I think we can trust them."

Severus regarded Harry silently for a few seconds.  It was as though he were seeking something written upon the boy's face.  Confirmation, perhaps.  Whatever it was, he seemed to find it, for the next thing he said was simply, "All right."

Then he turned to the twins and growled sternly, "I will trust the two of you on this.  Now listen closely, because I'm only going to say this once.  Firstly, if I catch you breathing a word about this to _anyone_- other than Professor Dumbledore, who already knows- I _will_ make you wish you'd never been born."

From the expressions on the twins' faces, they clearly believed him.  Severus was, after all, highly skilled at intimidation.  Harry hid a small grin.  His father should be teaching "The Art of Intimidation," not Potions.

"Secondly, don't go pestering Harry for details.  He can tell you if he wants, but it's far better- and safer- if you simply avoid dwelling on what you've found out today.  Is that clear?"

Fred and George nodded vigorously.

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir."

"Good.  Now you had better leave.  Madam Pomfrey will have your heads if she catches you in here."

The twins' shoulders slumped in disappointment.  Apparently they had been hoping to stay and talk to Harry.  Seeing this, Severus added firmly but not unkindly, "You'll be able to talk to him later."

Reluctantly, Fred and George left through the secret passageway from which they'd come.  Harry felt a bit let down himself- he could have used a good laugh at some of the twins' new pranks.  In any case, however, he knew he'd get to see their latest inventions soon enough.   

  *        *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          

[A/N]:  That's all for now, folks!  Stay tuned for the next chapter; there should hopefully be some comic relief in a scene I've been looking forward to for a while now.  Once again, please review!  Ta ta!


	10. Freedom of a sort

Thanks once more for all the lovely reviews, I do appreciate them.

Chapter 10

Harry felt weak and shaky, as though he'd just recovered from a nasty bout of flu.  Fred and George's finding out about Professor Snape being his father had been something of a nightmare.  Pulling himself together, he tried to focus on _Quidittch Through the Ages_.  Ron and Hermione would probably be coming in to visit him at any moment; he couldn't afford to let them think anything but being sick had affected him.

Finally deciding that he simply couldn't sit still any longer, he was just about to find Madam Pomfrey to see if he couldn't head back to the Gryffindor common room when he nearly walked head-on into the witch herself at the doorway.

"Mr. Potter, just where do you think you're going?  You should be resting in bed!"

"I'm feeling much better, really, Madam Pomfrey.  Can't I go back to my common room?  I promise I'll take it easy," Harry said.

The Hogwarts nurse regarded him doubtfully, reaching out to feel his forehead with the back of her hand.

"Your fever does seem to have gone down…"

"_Please_?" asked Harry plaintively.  He hated staying in the Hospital Wing.  Madam Pomfrey was very nice, but she tended to be a bit overprotective of her patients.

"Oh, all right, I suppose so.  Off with you, then- but mind you don't overexert yourself!" she said.  She turned and stalked off in a manner reminiscent of an offended cat, muttering to herself about patients not taking rest seriously enough.

Relieved, Harry made his way to Gryffindor Tower, stopping in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Password, please, my dear!" she trilled at him merrily.

"_Arcana_," said Harry.

The Fat Lady peered at him more closely.  

"You should take a nap, dear, you look positively exhausted."

Harry scowled as he pushed aside the portrait and stepped into the common room.

"I wish everyone would stop telling me that," he growled to himself.

He was just about to head up the stairs to the boys' dorm when he heard someone call his name.

"Harry!"

It was Hermione.  She leapt up from her seat at the table where she had been studying.  Ron, who had been seated across from her, did the same a split second later.

"We tried to come and see you at the Hospital Wing, but Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let us in-"

"Yeah, she said you weren't being allowed any visitors till this evening-"

"And when you didn't come back from your detention with Snape, we thought something might have happened-"

Harry's heart pounded painfully in his chest.  Something certainly had happened, but he couldn't tell Ron and Hermione about discovering that Snape was his father.  He forced himself to try and act normally.

"I told Hermione I wouldn't put it past that greasy git to make you do a detention that could land you in the Hospital Wing," said Ron.

"But you must be feeling better, or she wouldn't have let you go early.  Right, Harry?" said Hermione.

"Er- right," replied Harry.

"So what was the deal with Snape, eh?" asked Ron.

"Nothing," said Harry quickly.  Ron looked doubtful.  

"It was just a typical Snape detention," Harry elaborated.  "He made me clean dirty cauldrons without magic.  I hadn't been feeling well all afternoon, and I guess the smell of the cauldrons just made it worse.  Anyway, it got to the point that I felt like I might throw up all over Snape's shoes.  I told him as much, so he sent me to the Hospital Wing.  I dunno if he was pleased that I was sick or annoyed that I had to leave detention early."

"Both, probably," muttered Ron.

"Something else happened in the Hospital Wing, though," Harry continued.  He filled them in on his vision of Voldemort and the Dementors, leaving out the fact that Snape had been there to witness it.

"Fudge is such a peabrain," Ron said bitterly.  "Dumbledore _told_ him months ago that this would happen if he didn't get rid of the Dementors!  Now You-Know-Who's going to be even more powerful."

Unwillingly, Harry found himself recalling the aftermath of the third task of the Triwizard Tournament.  The tension between Fudge and Dumbledore had been almost tangible.  Fudge had rejected Dumbledore's advice that Azkaban be removed from the control of the Dementors and that envoys be sent to the giants.  Harry had a feeling, however, that Hagrid and Madame Maxime's mission for Dumbledore over the summer involved the latter.  Dumbledore had also asked Severus to do something, but Harry didn't know what at the time.  Now, Harry realized that whatever the task was, it probably involved spying.

"Does Dumbledore know about this, Harry?" asked Hermione.

"Yes," Harry replied.  He declined to add that it was his father who had told the Headmaster, not him.

"You will be extra-careful, won't you?" the bushy-haired witch asked anxiously.  "Maybe you shouldn't play Quidittch this year…"

Ron stared at her in disbelief.

"He's got to play Quidittch, Hermione!  He's the best Seeker we've ever had!"

"Maybe Madam Hooch can supervise the team again," Harry suggested diplomatically.  He didn't want to resign from Quidittch, not if he could help it.  

"By the way, have either of you heard when tryouts are?" he asked Ron.

"This Friday," Ron answered, a look of combined nervousness and excitement crossing his freckled face.  "You'll be there, won't you?"

_That's right_, _Ron's trying out for Keeper, _Harry thought with a twinge of guilt.  With everything that had happened to him in the past twenty-four hours, he had momentarily forgotten that Ron would be participating in the tryouts.  "Definitely," said Harry.

*          *            *          

Dinner that evening started off rather uneventfully.  Snape scowled at Harry, Ron, and Hermione in his usual dour manner as the three entered the Great Hall.  To Ron and Hermione, this was nothing unusual, but to Harry, it was a stark reminder of the charade that he and his father had to play.

At the Gryffindor table, Fred and George Weasley, Ron's elder twin brothers, were busy showing off one of their latest inventions to their best friend, Lee Jordan.

"We're calling it 'Chameleon Spice,'" said Fred.

"Yeah, you sprinkle it onto any food like you would salt, and when you eat it, it makes your hair change colour," explained George.

"Brilliant!" Lee proclaimed.  He sprinkled it onto his beef casserole, stirred it around on his plate, and took a bite.  Lee's dredlocks promptly turned bright blue.

Upon seeing Lee's hair, the rest of the Gryffindors roared with laughter.

"What colour is my hair?" demanded Lee.

Everyone was laughing and giggling too excitedly to answer him.

Harry had to regain control of himself before he could answer Lee properly, he was laughing so hard.

"Bright- bright blue!" he chortled.

It was a relief to laugh; it allowed Harry to momentarily forget the events of the past twenty-four hours and pretend, if just for a little while, that he was just like any other teenaged wizard, enjoying a practical joke with his friends.

Later that evening, as he was going over his missed work in the Common Room with Ron and Hermione (the latter of whom was very insistent that Harry not get behind), an owl appeared at the window, tapping its beak against the glass.

Ron opened the window to allow the owl to fly in.  Settling itself importantly on the back of a chair, it stuck its leg out to allow the youngest Weasley boy to remove the attached piece of parchment.

"It's from Hagrid!"

Dear Harry, Ron, and Hermione, (the note read)

How's about stopping by at five o'clock tomorrow for a cup of tea?  Let me know if you can make it.

-Hagrid

It would be nice to visit Hagrid; the trio hadn't had a chance to catch up with him yet.  Harry scribbled an affirmative reply to send back with the owl, with Ron and Hermione's enthusiastic approval.

Tiredness overcoming him, a yawn escaped Harry.  Hermione glanced at him critically.  

"You should go to bed, Harry, you look really tired," she said.

Harry scowled.

"Everyone keeps telling me that.  But you're right, I probably ought to get some sleep."

Hermione studied him, a thoughtful look crossing her face.

"That's funny.  When you frowned just now, you reminded me of someone for a moment.  I can't think who, though."

"You must be tired, too, 'Mione," said Ron.  "Harry's _Harry_.  He's always looked the same."

"You're probably right," sighed the witch.  "Goodnight, then."

_If only you knew_, thought Harry miserably.

TBC!  Please, please review!


	11. Overreaction?

Jstarz927: You reviewed! Yay! Keep in touch, you hear me? I expect an email from you every now and then. *Grins and bares teeth threateningly.*  
  
Aliquis: Thanks for being honest in your review. I can't tell you how much I appreciate the constructive criticism; it really helps a lot. I hope you will continue to review in the future! Ta!  
  
Saavik: Thanks for responding to my plea for reviews. You wanted to know if Herm can see through the charm. My answer: Not telling! (Aren't I mean?) Don't worry, you should be able to tell as the story unfolds.  
  
Saori: Wow! I'm flattered! *Ducks head, blushing* Bit of a teaser in thanks for your review: Draco will be playing a significant role later on.  
  
Thanks to everyone else who reviewed as well.  
  
[A/N]: Sorry this chapter took so long to get out. I had it nearly complete well over a week ago, but I had to rewrite the entire bloody thing because I couldn't access the file on my computer. Hopefully it will be worth the wait.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 11: Overreaction?  
  
Upon entering the Gryffindor common room on their way out to breakfast the next morning, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were confronted by a truly terrible smell. Fred and George, it seemed, had decided to set off another of their new inventions. Harry didn't know what this new invention was called yet, but whatever it was, the intensity and foulness of the smell put Dungbombs to shame. Trying not to breathe through his nose (was his sense of smell more acute than before, or was he imagining things?) Harry rushed out of the portrait hole and past the twins, who were cackling gleefully. Ron and Hermione followed him close behind.  
  
"Eurgh, those two have really outdone themselves this time," snickered Ron, who looked torn between disgust at the invention's stench and the cleverness of his elder twin brothers. "Seemed like they never came out of their room over the summer, they were so busy experimenting and inventing things. Mum was ready to strangle them, but since they didn't blow anything up in the rest of the house, she didn't."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry grinned at that last remark. It was good to see the twins were making use of the thousand Galleons he had secretly given them at the end of last term. The money had been Harry's winnings from the Triwizard Tournament, but after Cedric Diggory's death, Harry didn't feel right about keeping it. He had tried to give it away several times before finally convincing the twins to take it on condition that they use it towards starting their joke shop, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.  
  
* * *  
  
After breakfast, the trio separated, Ron and Harry heading towards the Divination classroom while Hermione left for her Arithmany class.  
  
"Wonder what new rubbish Trelawney will be teaching us this year," grumbled Ron. Then he grinned. "What's the betting she predicts your death again this year, eh, mate?"  
  
"My Inner Eye tells me that this is extremely likely." intoned Harry in a mock-dreamy voice. "Wish she'd stop doing that, it's getting really old," he continued more seriously.  
  
Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who were walking nearby, scowled at the two boys. Lavender and Parvati's favorite class by far was Divination, and they idolized Professor Trelawney.  
  
Upon entering the classroom, Harry was confronted with the suffocating, cloying smell of the fumes from Trelawney's perpetually lit fireplace. The air inside seemed even more heavily perfumed and thick than in previous years.  
  
"Welcome back to Divination, my dears. Now that you are entering your third year of the study of Divination, we will be moving on to more advanced concepts. For most of this year, we will be studying the art of Tarot cards." Trelawney droned on. She went on to explain the different types of faces on the cards, adding that they would have a chance to actually view a deck during today's class.  
  
Ron's eyelids were already beginning to droop; Harry discreetly kicked his friend's shin under the table.  
  
"Ron!" he hissed.  
  
"Wha-?" said the gangly, freckled redhead as he was startled awake.  
  
"Stay awake! Trelawney's coming over here to pass out the cards!"  
  
"Wish she would pass out, these fumes would put anyone to sleep," muttered Ron under his breath.  
  
Lavender and Parvati glared at Ron as though he had mortally offended them by dozing off in their favorite class. Eyes bright behind her overlarge spectacles, Professor Trelawney laid a deck of cards on Harry and Ron's table.  
  
"Ah, my poor boy," she looked at Harry mistily. "I do hope that the fates are mistaken, and that you will not be in mortal peril again this year."  
  
To Trelawney's surprise and dismay, broad grins appeared on both Harry's and Ron's faces. Told you so, Ron's mirthful eyes seemed to say.  
  
"It is not a laughing matter!" sniffed Trelawney huffily.  
  
The grin faded from Harry's face. The Divination professor annually predicted Harry's death or mortal peril, but whether or not she knew it, in this case she was right. Harry already was in danger. Of course, he always had been, because of Voldemort. But Trelawney couldn't have had a real prediction about Harry being in danger because who his real father was, could she? Harry certainly hoped not.  
  
That thought kept Harry rather quiet for the remainder of class. Later, while walking down to the greenhouses for Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and the rest of Gryffindor House, he was so absorbed in his thoughts that he barely heard a word of what Ron was saying about Quidditch tryouts.  
  
"I dunno, Harry. Do you really think I have a chance?"  
  
"Mmm-hmh."  
  
"I mean, Fred and George are probably going to be extra-critical of me because I'm their brother, don't you think?"  
  
"Mmm-hmh."  
  
"Harry," said Ron reproachfully. He snapped his fingers in front of Harry's face, causing Harry to jump and focus on Ron. "You haven't been listening to a word I've said, have you?"  
  
"What? Oh, sorry. Really, I am. I was just.kind of distracted."  
  
"I'll say you were. You're not still thinking about what Trelawney said, are you? You know the old fraud predicts your death every year, and you've proved her wrong each time. Don't worry about it, mate. She's just making it up, as usual."  
  
"Yeah, I know that. Stupid of me to waste so much time thinking about it," replied Harry. Still, a little voice in the back of his head kept saying, She's made true predictions before. "So, what was that you were saying about tryouts?"  
  
* * *  
  
Herbology passed uneventfully. Before long, it was five o'clock and time to head down to Hagrid's hut for tea. Fang, Hagrid's enormous boarhound, greeted them joyfully, nearly knocking them over in an attempt to cover their faces with big, slobbery kisses. The half-giant himself enveloped the three young Gryffindors at once in a rib-crushing hug.  
  
"How've you lot been? 'ave a good summer?" Hagrid inquired as he poured out tea and passed around a large plate of rock-biscuits.  
  
"Very well, thanks, and yes, Hagrid," replied Hermione with a smile, brushing a long strand of bushy hair out of her face.  
  
Harry nodded as if to say, same here, avoiding actually speaking as he sipped at his tea. He had no intention of revealing what had happened at the Dursleys' if at all possible, even to his friends.  
  
"And classes are going well? No problems so far?" the half-giant continued.  
  
"Pretty well. It's good to have Professor Lupin back. The only downside is that we have double Potions first thing Monday mornings. And oh, yes, Trelawney's still convinced that Harry's fated to die by the end of the year," said Ron cheerfully.  
  
"Ah, tha' old bat. Sibyll Trelawney always predicts at least one student's death a year. Don' worry 'bout it, 'Arry."  
  
"I'm not worrying about it!" said Harry sharply.  
  
Hermione, Ron, and Hagrid stared at him in surprise. It was unlike Harry to be curt.  
  
"I mean, thanks for worrying about me and all, but Trelawney's death predictions are nothing I'm not used to. They don't bother me."  
  
"'Course not, Harry," replied Hagrid gently.  
  
Thankfully, the conversation shifted to other matters. The trio tried to get Hagrid to talk about the mission with Madam Maxime he had undertaken on Dumbledore's behalf last summer, but Hagrid refused to divulge any information.  
  
"'s top-secret Hogwarts business. Can't tell yeh," Hagrid said firmly.  
  
And that was all Hagrid would say on the matter.  
  
After their visit with Hagrid, Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked back across the grounds for dinner in the Great Hall, chattering away and speculating as to what Hagrid had been up to during the summer. Personally, Harry was convinced that it had something to do with the giants. Both Hagrid and Madame Maxime were half-giants, so it only made sense that Dumbledore would send them to negotiate with the giants before Voldemort got a chance to win them over to the Dark Lord's side. Harry only hoped the Care of Magical Creatures professor and the Headmistress of Beauxbatons had been successful- Voldemort had already recruited the Dementors. An involuntary shiver passed through the dark-haired boy's thin form. Witnessing that was an experience he had no desire whatsoever to relive.  
  
To Harry, dinner was a tedious affair. He pushed the food around on his plate unenthusiastically, finding himself unable to eat very much. Summer at the Dursleys' seemed to have shrunk his stomach- or maybe it was just an after-affect of having been ill. Half-heartedly, he forced down a few bites of chicken and vegetables at Hermione's insistence. But when Ron started to tease him about getting so skinny he would start to look like Snape, Harry couldn't stand it any longer. He knew Ron was only teasing out of concern for getting him to eat, but the mention of Snape reminded Harry only too well of the secret he was keeping from them and how he wished he didn't have to conceal the truth from his best friends.  
  
"Look Ron, just- just shut up, will you? I already said I'm not hungry, so leave it alone!" Harry glared. "And I don't look like Snape!"  
  
"All right, all right! Calm down, mate. You just need to take care of yourself, okay? You've been sick, and you need to eat something. And of course you don't look like Snape, it's not like you're his son or anything. Ugh, imagine Snape having kids!" Ron shuddered.  
  
That was the final straw. Snatching up his book bag, Harry stormed out of the hall. No wonder Dumbledore doesn't want me to tell Ron and Hermione, Harry thought bitterly. Even if doing so wouldn't put Harry and Snape in danger, Ron, at least, would never understand. Hermione might understand, but Ron would probably accuse Harry of having known all along. Memories of how Ron had been angry with him last year during the Triwizard Tournament suddenly flooded back to the young dark-haired wizard. Harry didn't want to destroy his friendship with his freckled, redheaded friend again.  
  
Still upset, but beginning to calm down, Harry decided against heading back to Gryffindor Tower and instead went to the library. He wasn't as bookish as Hermione, so the library wasn't the first place anyone would think of to look for him.  
  
* * *  
  
Ron and Hermione weren't the only ones who had noticed Harry's tense behavior at dinner. From his seat at the faculty table, Severus watched as Harry stormed out of the hall. A scowl crossed the features of the Potions Master. What on earth was the boy doing? Hadn't he and Albus made it perfectly clear that Harry needed to keep a low profile? Clearly Harry didn't realise that such an argument with his two best friends was sure to attract attention. It was only with a great effort that Severus was able to restrain himself from storming out of the hall after Harry in order to berate the boy. Never mind, he told himself. I'll just have to catch up with him later and knock some sense into him.  
  
Professor Lupin noted Harry's exit from the hall with concern. What on earth had gotten into James' son? As far as Lupin had ever been able to tell, Harry was a relatively easygoing sort of person. It was unlike Harry to quarrel- unless it was with Draco Malfoy. But clearly, Harry's quarrel this time had been with Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, his two best friends. Amazingly, Malfoy was still seated at the Slytherin table and had made no effort to taunt his rival. Glancing at the blond-haired Slytherin, Lupin made a mental note to keep an eye on Lucius Malfoy's heir; the werewolf had no doubt that Draco would one day become a Death Eater like his father. Lupin also made a note to have a talk with Harry sometime soon and ask him if everything was all right. He knew that Harry and Sirius would not have had much of a chance to communicate over the summer, so he wanted to reassure the boy that his godfather was still safe.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Next chapter will be out soon, so stay tuned! Please review! 


	12. Tea and Sympathy

[A/N]: So sorry it took me forever to get this chapter out. I was definitely suffering a severe case of writer's block. Unfortunately, the only cure I know of for that is to take a break from the work in progress and return to it later with a fresh perspective. Anyway, I want to make it clear that I have no intention of abandoning this fic, and I fully intend to complete it.  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter 12: Tea and Sympathy  
  
  
  
Harry wandered morosely through the bookshelves in the library. More than ever, he wished he had someone he could talk to about the whole "by-the-way- I-found-out-that-Snape-raped-my-mum-and-it-turns-out-he's-actually-my-dad" situation. Albus Dumbledore might be a kindly and extremely powerful wizard- the only one Voldemort feared, in fact- but Harry didn't feel like he could confide in the Headmaster. And despite the fact that Snape's behavior towards Harry so far had been almost kind, the teenaged wizard was still wary of the caustic Potions Master and reluctant to talk to him. Harry had never had an adult he felt he could really talk to until Sirius. Unwillingly, the boy was reminded that he still hadn't decided what to tell his escaped-convict godfather. With a soft groan, he ran a hand through his black hair, which was once again unruly.  
  
There was no hope that Sirius would take the news well. It was bad enough that Snape-no, his father, Harry corrected himself sternly- and Sirius already detested each other. But the circumstances of Harry's birth would probably infuriate Sirius enough to want to kill Snape, or at the very least inflict some considerable damage. Harry cringed internally. He had to admit, even though he himself hadn't warmed up much to his father yet, he did sort of want a chance to get to know the man before telling Sirius.  
  
What worried Harry most, however, was the possibility that his godfather would reject him because he was Snape's son. Pushing that distinctly uncomfortable thought from his mind, he stalked away from the group of third-year Hufflepuffs that had just entered the library ("Quiet down, you lot! This is a library, not a common room!" snapped Madam Pince).  
  
Turning a corner so as to disappear behind the tall bookshelves, he caught sight of Professor Lupin further down the aisle. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor appeared to be flipping idly through the pages of some old, dusty books. Normally Harry would have had no objection to saying hello the werewolf, but at the moment, the boy preferred to avoid company. As chance had it, Lupin glanced up and caught sight of Harry.  
  
"Ah, Harry! I was hoping I'd run in to you. Do you have a few moments to spare for a cup of tea in my office?" In a lower tone of voice, he added, "I have news of Snuffles."  
  
"Er- sure, Professor," replied Harry. He hoped the reluctance he felt didn't show on his face. If it did, however, Lupin gave no sign of noticing.  
  
The two passed through the hallways of the castle to the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office, narrowly avoiding one of the more playful staircases, which liked to change direction without warning.  
  
Settling himself in one of the comfortable overstuffed chairs that faced Lupin's desk, Harry looked around at all the bizarre creatures the professor stored in various tanks. He recognised some of them that Lupin had taught his third year class about. Harry hoped the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor wasn't storing any Boggarts nearby; he didn't really feel up to conjuring a Patronus.  
  
As he busied himself with preparing tea, Lupin studied his student out of the corner of his eye. It really was uncanny, he thought, how Harry seemed to resemble James more and more each year. Except for the eyes and the scar, Harry could have passed for James' twin brother. Harry looked rather stressed, the werewolf noticed, but that was doubtlessly out of concern for his godfather.  
  
"First of all, Harry," he began, handing the boy a chipped mug of steaming brown tea, "You should know that Sirius is safe for the moment. He's looking healthier as well; Arabella Figg and I made sure he got a few good, square meals over the summer."  
  
Harry's face lost a little of its tension, and the two resumed sipping at their tea companionably.  
  
"That's good," he said. "I haven't heard from him recently. I'm glad he's OK."  
  
Lupin looked mildly apologetic. "I'm sorry he couldn't write to you more often, but I'm afraid he's been busy.running errands.so to speak, for Dumbledore."  
  
Harry nodded. He understood the importance of the work Sirius was doing, even if it meant limiting communication between himself and his godfather.  
  
"He did tell me to let you know he might be able to come visit for Christmas, though," Lupin added.  
  
"That'd- that'd be great, Professor!" said Harry, hoping he looked sincerely eager. Usually Harry would be more than pleased to see his godfather face-to-face, but if Sirius came for Christmas.well, Harry would just have to make up his mind whether or not to tell him about Snape by then. Christmas was almost three months away, leaving Harry plenty of time to decide what to do.  
  
"I know Sirius would be pleased as well," Lupin smiled. "Meanwhile, how've you been?"  
  
"Erm, fine," said Harry.  
  
"I noticed you had a disagreement with Ron and Hermione at lunch this afternoon. You three don't seem the sort to get into fights easily. Care to talk about it?"  
  
"Oh, that," said Harry casually, forcing himself to look sheepish. "I lost my temper, is all. They were nagging me to eat more, but I just haven't been hungry for the past couple days because I had the flu. It's nothing, really. I'll apologise to them later, I shouldn't have been so snappish."  
  
"I see," said Lupin, though he didn't look completely convinced. Nevertheless, he let the subject drop.  
  
"I'm glad you've got such good friends in Ron and Hermione," he continued. "Reminds me of my own days at Hogwarts." the werewolf trailed off softly, as though he were momentarily reliving the memories.  
  
It suddenly occurred to Harry that this would be an ideal opportunity to ask Lupin about Lily Potter.  
  
"Professor?"  
  
"Yes, Harry?" the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor focused his attention on the boy again.  
  
"Would- would you mind telling me about my mother, what she was like? I mean, if you'd rather not, I'll understand, but.it's just- I don't really know much about her. You did know her, didn't you? I just thought that if- if you were friends with J- with my dad, you must've known my mum as well." Harry swore at himself internally. He had almost slipped there.  
  
Lupin had grown very still, regarding Harry through gentle eyes. If he noticed Harry's slip of the tongue, he gave no sign.  
  
"Ah," said the werewolf softly. "I had a suspicion you would ask me that sometime."  
  
"You don't have to-"  
  
"No, no.I don't mind at all. In fact, I'm glad you did. What sorts of things did you want to know?"  
  
"What was her favourite colour? Who were her friends? What were her hobbies? Her favourite subjects in school? Did she have a pet? When-"  
  
"Slow down, slow down! One question at a time, if you please!" interrupted Lupin, chuckling.  
  
And to Harry's delight, Lupin proceeded to answer all his questions and more. The boy couldn't remember ever having been told so much about his mother at once, and he soaked in every detail. He was grinning broadly at a very amusing incident Lupin was relating that involved Lily attempting to teach the Marauders a proper Banishing Charm when-  
  
"Lupin! I thought I'd find you here. I daresay it slipped you mind that you were supposed to come get the Wolfsbane Potion from me twenty minutes ago? Truly, I begin to wonder more and more just why Dumbledore re-hired you, if you can't remember something as important as that!"  
  
It was Snape, holding a gobletful of steaming potion and wearing a scowl of deep annoyance on his thin face. As the Potions Master caught sight of Harry, the scowl deepened even further. Harry tried to avoid giving his father more than a cursory glance of acknowledgement. Act normal, he reminded himself.  
  
"My sincere apologies, Severus," said Lupin calmly. "I'm afraid I lost track of the time." Accepting the proferred goblet, the werewolf tossed back its contents with a grimace at the unpleasant taste.  
  
Harry stood up, taking this as his cue to leave.  
  
"Er- I'll just be running along then. Thanks for the tea and everything, Professor Lupin."  
  
Lupin smiled kindly at the young dark-haired wizard.  
  
"I'll see you next time our class meets, Harry, though you are welcome to stop by at any time if you find you have further questions."  
  
"All right. Thanks again, Professor," said Harry.  
  
He had gone no more than halfway down the corridor when Snape caught up with him.  
  
"A word with you, if you please, Mr. Potter. In my office. Now!" Snape's tone of voice indicated that Harry had very little choice about the matter.  
  
No sooner had Snape shut the heavy wooden door to his office than he turned to Harry and began to speak.  
  
"Do you have any idea how foolish you've been?" The question was not delivered in the loud, angry tones Harry expected. Instead- and this is what made it far, far, worse- it was delivered softly, dangerously, with an air of tightly-controlled fury.  
  
Harry looked at him and shook his head, wide-eyed.  
  
"Allow me to refresh your memory. This afternoon, at lunch, Mr. Potter and his two best friends quarreled, resulting in his storming out of the Hall. After he left, there was a great deal of gossip and speculation about what could have upset him so much. Now, whatever petty little disagreement it was, did it merit jeopardizing your safety? I sincerely doubt it. You cannot allow such attention to be drawn to yourself!"  
  
Harry looked stricken.  
  
"I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't think-"  
  
"Damn right you didn't," growled Severus. Seeing Harry's face, however, the Potions Master felt some of his anger ebb away. "What were you quarreling about, anyway?"  
  
For the second time that day, Harry explained. Only this time, he didn't exclude Ron's comment about Harry looking like Snape.  
  
"Can't I just tell them the truth?" he pleaded. "They're suspicious enough as it is, and I honestly think they'll figure it out before too long, they know me so well. And- they're my best friends. We've kept major secrets before. I know they'd never betray this one."  
  
Severus sighed.  
  
"I'm sorry, Harry, but Dumbledore's right in this case. Think about it. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are indeed loyal friends, and as such they would never betray you willingly. But it is precisely because they are your friends that they can't be told. Their association with you puts them at risk, and if they were to be captured by Voldemort...well, it's very probable that he would torture the information out of them. The less they know, the safer we all are."  
  
Harry nodded in reluctant agreement.  
  
* * *  
  
After allowing his father to clean the cuts on his back one more time, Harry decided to return to the Gryffindor common room. He silently traversed the corridors, thinking gloomily of his conversation with Snape and replaying in his mind all the stories Lupin had told him about his mother. It was a lot to take in at once. Reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady, he muttered "Arcana" distractedly and steped through the portrait hole.  
  
Fred and George, along with their best friend, Lee Jordan, were seated at a table, bending over something and sniggering. No doubt they were coming up with some new prank. Just past them, a group of first year girls were discussing Transfiguration ("McGonagall makes turning a matchstick into a needle look so easy! I don't know if I'll ever get it!"). Across the room, Ron and Hermione were sitting by the fire, engaged in a game of Wizard's Chess. They glanced up as they heard the portrait being opened, and upon recognizing Harry, they looked at him a little uncertainly. The dark-haired wizard couldn't really blame them for that- he hadn't spoken to them since having stormed out of the Great Hall. Quietly, he made his way over to where they were sitting and joined them.  
  
"All right, you two?"  
  
"Yeah," said Ron. Hermione nodded, still looking at Harry worriedly. "You?"  
  
"Yes," said Harry. "Look, I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I know you were just trying to help."  
  
"Where did you go, Harry? We were worried about you," said Hermione.  
  
"The library. Then I ran into Professor Lupin and ended up having tea with him in his office and talking. Lost track of the time, I guess."  
  
"Hmm. The full moon's next week. I wonder what Professor Lupin's doing about the Wolfsbane Potion," commented Hermione.  
  
"Oh, that. Snape came in just before I left with a gobletful of the stuff, saying Lupin was supposed to have stopped by earlier to pick it up. He was pretty annoyed."  
  
"Snape's always annoyed," cut in Ron.  
  
Harry made a noncommittal noise. He wanted to say, "Not always. He can be decent at times. And I'd be annoyed if someone forgot to show up when they said they would."  
  
Hermione was studying Harry's face thoughtfully. The bushy-haired witch's eyes were narrowed as she scrutinized him carefully.  
  
"That's it!" she said suddenly. Thankfully, her voice was soft, because what she said next almost made Harry's heart stop in his chest.  
  
"Remember, the other day, when I thought Harry looked like someone, but I couldn't think of who? It was Snape. You know, that scowl of his? Harry had the exact same expression."  
  
"So I have a talent for imitating Snape- what's so special about that? The twins are masters at that sort of thing, you know. I bet if you asked them they could do a pretty good impression of him," retorted Harry. He was half-surprised Ron and Hermione couldn't hear his heart beating wildly, it was doing a painful sort of tap-dance and he heard a rushing noise in his ears. A mantra kept running through his head: Don't let them figure it out, please don't let them figure it out...  
  
It didn't help matters any that a part of Harry wished they would figure it out so he'd have someone to talk to. But he had promised Dumbledore he wouldn't tell Ron and Hermione, and Harry was not the sort to go back on his word.  
  
"Anyway," he continued, hoping he sounded normal, "I'd rather not think about the greasy git. That detention's still fresh on my mind." He shuddered.  
  
"Yeah, leave him alone, Hermione," Ron intervened. "If I'd detention with Snape, I'd want to put it as far from my mind as possible, too."  
  
Hermione subsided, but not without grumbling to herself about boys being totally unobservant.  
  
* * *  
  
That night, sleep was difficult in coming for Severus Snape. His conversation with Harry had gone as well as he could have hoped. He felt reassured that Harry would be more cautious from now on. What disturbed him more was the state of Harry's back. Due to the location of the injuries, he doubted Harry had a clear idea of what the wounds looked like. They were healing up well, it was true, but it looked as though there would definitely be scars. Severus hadn't mentioned this to Harry, deciding to wait and see if his analysis was mistaken. Perhaps the scars would fade eventually, given some time. If not...well, better not dwell on it. Instead, Severus let his thoughts drift to the Dursleys and Harry's explanation of how he received the cuts in the first place, sifting through the facts and their implications until he finally drifted into sleep.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
That's all for now, folks! Stay tuned for the next chapter, and in the meantime, PLEASE review! Thanks! 


	13. Temptamine

[A/N]: Wow, over 200 reviews, I'm so excited! Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter: Kate Wisdom, Angel Baby, Mikee, Lily, Iniysa, jstarz927, Saavik, Ariana Deralte, morgaine, travelgirl, and fizzysoda. I really appreciate it! Feedback and constructive criticism are always welcome. In answer to queries and comments:  
  
jstarz927: Patience, my friend! Voldemort will play a role eventually, never fear. This will be an angsty fic, but I don't plan to make it as dark as some I've come across. I just couldn't bear to torture Rowling's lovely cast of characters...too much!  
  
Saavik: Will Sev let Harry tell Lupin? Well now, if I told you that, it'd spoil the plot for you, now wouldn't it? (*grins*) Lupin, will, of course, have a significant role, and he is going to know the truth- at some point! Can't say much more than that, though!  
  
Ariana Deralte: Yes, I thought it was high time Harry had a nice long chat with some adult about what his mother was like. Poor kid, never having known anything about his parents!  
  
morgaine: Sirius will definitely play an important part in this fic. How big, I haven't decided yet. And as for the time span, that remains to be seen.  
  
Lily: Thanks for the feedback! A cure for Sev's Dark Mark or a potion to destroy Voldie? Hmm. We'll see.  
  
Mikee, Angel Baby, and Kate Wisdom: One of the best fics out there, eh? Aww, thanks, I'm so flattered! (*blushes, shuffles feet and stares at floor in pleased embarassment*)  
  
  
  
  
  
Bellum Domesticum  
  
Chapter 13: Temptamine  
  
  
  
  
  
Harry got through the rest of the week in a sort of daze, automatically going to classes and completing homework without really noticing what he was doing. He pored over the Daily Prophet every day at breakfast, looking for any news on the status of the Dementors of Azkaban, but there appeared to be none. Harry, Ron, and Hermione discussed this amongst themselves, unsure of what to make of it. Harry insisted that his vision had occurred in the same manner as his previous ones, and they had all been images of actual events. So why hadn't the Daily Prophet included an article about the Dementors?  
  
"Well, it's quite obvious, isn't it, really?" said Hermione.  
  
"What do you mean, 'Mione?" asked Ron with an air of long-suffering patience.  
  
"Fudge is making the reporters keep quiet. He doesn't want to believe that You-Know-Who has returned, remember? And stop calling me that!"  
  
"Great," groaned Harry. Out of habit, he started to push his glasses back up his nose before realising he wasn't wearing them anymore. "There's probably so much more going on out there that we don't know about because Fudge must be covering it up!"  
  
"I just can't believe that he'd misuse his office so much as to withold information like this from the public!" fumed Hermione. "We have a right to know what's happening! This just as rotten a crime as the condition of house-elves-"  
  
Fearing where this conversation was leading, Ron hurriedly changed the subject before Hermione brought up S.P.E.W.  
  
School continued as usual, despite the trio's anxiety. As all three of them were stressed out over current events, any extra stress exhibited by Harry was able to pass by unnoticed. He hadn't seen his father since being told off, so it was easy to put the man out of mind. After a couple of days, Harry even calmed down enough to stop panicking inwardly every time Snape's name was mentioned. However, the next Potions class was approaching, and Harry grew increasingly apprehensive. This would be the real test of his acting abilities.  
  
He needn't have worried.  
  
It was only a single hour of Potions; the fifth years only had double Potions once a week. Still, as Ron always said, one hour was bad enough. Ignoring the students' groans of dismay, Snape had given them a pop quiz on the potion they had brewed last class. They were supposed to list the ingredients and give a brief description of the properties of each.  
  
This shouldn't be too bad, thought Harry. He had aced that potion, after all. Dipping his eagle-feather quill into the ink bottle that rested on his desk, he began writing. A short time later, he finished describing the properties of the final ingredient and set down his quill on top of the parchment with relief. Looking around, he saw to his amazement that the entire rest of the class was still struggling with the quiz. Well, not everyone was- Hermione finished not long after he did- but the other students were gazing down at their parchments blankly in an effort to remember an ingredient or property. Some were biting the ends of their quills or drumming fingers on desks in nervous desperation.  
  
Harry remained quiet at his desk, waiting for everyone else to finish. It didn't seem likely to happen anytime soon. Snape, at his desk in the front of the classroom, was occupied grading homework assignments. Finishing the one he was working on, the Potions Master set the stack of parchments aside and surveyed the class.  
  
"All right, time's up. I'll be collecting your parchments now."  
  
There was a chorus of grumbling and protest, which was pointedly ignored by the Professor. He began to move from desk to desk, collecting quizzes from students who (with the exception of Harry and Hermione) shook their heads or slouched lower in their seats in despair. Snape tutted in condescending disbelief, slender dark eyebrows arched, as he glanced at some of the responses he saw on the quizzes.  
  
"Honestly, Mr. Finnegan. You should know by now that most potions have more than just three ingredients. This particular potion is supposed to have twelve."  
  
Seamus' freckled face flushed in embarassment as the Slytherins tittered. Other students could be seen wincing as they realised they hadn't listed all the ingredients, either.  
  
"And Miss Granger, I believe I asked for brief descriptions, not a textbook analysis. I really ought to take points off."  
  
The Slytherins looked smug and hopeful at this. Ron, on the other hand, had bristled and was glaring at Snape furiously. The other Gryffindors also looked resentful. Harry, too, was none too pleased at the professor's attitude. The boy knew Hermione was nothing if not a dedicated, hard worker. He had seen Hermione memorising all the information she could get her hands on about that potion and its ingredients. But Snape's next comment did far more to displease Harry, to say the least.  
  
"Ah, how could we forget our dear Mr. Potter? I do feel obliged to comment upon this piece of work- if it can be called that. Really, your parents would be ashamed of you."  
  
Harry glowered but remained silent, steadily meeting his father's dark-eyed gaze. That last comment was especially cruel- it would have been even if they hadn't found out the truth. Was Snape saying he was ashamed of Harry? The Potions Master hovered menacingly before Harry's desk.  
  
"I find it hard to believe that a student such as you- who has passed Potions every year by the skin of his teeth- could complete an assignment worthy of full marks, such as this appears to be. I don't know how you managed to see Granger's paper from where you're seated, but I can come to no other conclusion than that you must have cheated."  
  
At this, Harry's jaw dropped in shock- as did Hermione's and quite a few other people's. Snape didn't really think Harry had cheated, did he? Quickly, though, Harry felt his shock replaced by indignant anger.  
  
"I didn't cheat!"  
  
Snape brought his face close to Harry's, black eyes locking onto green in a battle of wills.  
  
"Don't lie to me, Potter," growled Snape, a dangerous tone in his voice.  
  
Before Harry could retort, Hermione piped up: "He didn't cheat, Professor! He wouldn't, I'm sure of it! I really think he knew the material; he's been studying really hard lately, and-"  
  
"Be quiet, Granger! This is between me and Potter."  
  
"But sir, he didn't-"  
  
"Did I not just tell you to be quiet, Granger? That's ten points from Gryffindor you've lost!"  
  
It looked as though Hermione was torn between breaking down and weeping in frustration or hitting Snape as she had once hit Malfoy. The bushy-haired witch's eyes were watering, and her hands were clenched into fists by her sides. The situation was so unfair that Harry would've liked to hit Snape as well- even if the man was his father. Ron's expression was one of pure fury. It looked as though the Weasley temper was about to boil over at any moment.  
  
"She was only standing up for him, how can you take points off for that! And I don't believe Harry cheated, either!" burst out the redhead.  
  
"Detention, Weasley. I don't want to hear another word from you today. And as for you, Potter, we'll be taking this matter to the Headmaster. Class dismissed. Weasley, Potter, stay behind."  
  
Suddenly something clicked inside Harry's brain. Snape must've planned this whole thing out, he realised. It was part of the game. Accusing Harry of cheating was perfectly in character for Snape, plus it gave the Potions Master an excuse to meet with both Harry and Dumbledore at the same time. Still, the incident angered Harry. Not only was the accusation humiliating and false, but Snape was doing the exact thing he had told Harry off about: attracting attention. He'd better have had a good reason, Harry growled to himself.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
End Chapter  
  
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[A/N]: What IS Severus up to, the crazy man? What happens at the meeting with Dumbledore? Find out next chapter! In the meantime, PLEEZE review! 


	14. Snape Can Laugh?

[A/N]: In response to comments from reviews, I'll try and make an effort to update more frequently. Also, in case you were wondering, the title of the last chapter, "Temptamine," is the Latin phrase for "On Trial." Ariana Deralte, the opening line is in your honour.  
  
  
  
Bellum Domesticum  
  
  
  
Chapter 14: Snape Can Laugh?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Severus had not planned on giving Weasley detention as well, but his first thought was that it was an added bonus. The Potions Master had grown so used to bullying the Gryffindors that he couldn't deny he took pleasure in doing so. Of course, he knew it was injust of him, but it was so much easier (and justifiable, so long as he remained a spy) to relieve tension by putting down students.  
  
Throwing himself into the role of the "greasy git" perfectly, he gleefully assigned Weasley a detention for Saturday morning with the caretaker, Argus Filch, then sent the sullen redheaded boy off. As soon as Ron had left, Harry's own sullen expression turned to one of barely-contained frustration.  
  
"Tell, me, Professor, have you any idea how foolish you've been?" sneered Harry, hurling Snape's earlier words to him back in the Potions Master's face. The sneer on the boy's countenance made him look decidedly Snape-ish for a moment, despite the effects of the Mirror Charm.  
  
"You give me all that rubbish about keeping a low profile, then you go and do the very thing you told me not to do: attract attention. You know how rumours travel around this school. Now everyone's going to be talking about how Harry POTTER either cheated on his Potions quiz or suddenly seems to have become a Potions student to rival Hermione Granger! You KNOW I didn't cheat. I can't help it if Potions has suddenly clicked for me, but I WAS trying to keep it quiet. And if that comment about my PARENTS wasn't uncalled for, I don't know what is. You're lucky I didn't lose it when you said that. You know, I think you enjoy discriminating against the Gryffindors entirely too much, even if you're supposed to do it as part of your role. You- oh, just forget it. C'mon, let's go see the Headmaster and get this over with."  
  
With that, Harry turned his back on his father and strode purposely towards the dungeon door. Still slightly stunned by the young wizard's outburst, Severus quickly regained his composure, and, with a few swift strides, caught up to his son. Grabbing the boy's arm, he turned him around so that they were face-to-face. Harry glared up at him, bright green eyes glittering with anger. For a brief moment, Severus almost thought he could see Lily in their son's face. That alone was enough to make him release the boy, angry rebuke dying on his lips.  
  
"Look, Harry, you're right that it was rather hypocritical of me to draw attention to you after what I had said to you earlier," Severus began.  
  
Harry stared at him in ill-concealed surprise. Snape was admitting he was in the wrong- this was priceless!  
  
"And the comment about your parents was a low blow, albeit a calculated one. I was looking for something to make you sufficiently and convincingly angry at me."  
  
"You did that, all right," muttered Harry. "Honestly, though, the accusation of cheating was enough. You didn't have to bring my par- well, my mum and James into it. D'you know, for a second I thought you really did believe I had cheated and were implying that YOU were ashamed of me."  
  
"Who says I don't think you cheated?" asked Severus, face dead straight.  
  
Harry gaped at him in astonishment.  
  
"But-"  
  
"It's a very serious matter, cheating," he continued gravely, enjoying watching his son grow more and more flustered.  
  
"I never-"  
  
Severus felt the laugh that had been building up inside him break forth, startling Harry, who looked at him accusingly.  
  
"That was awfully mean of you," the boy complained.  
  
That only increased the Potions Master's merriment. Between peals of laughter, Severus managed to gasp out, "Yes, I suppose it was- but the expression on your face was worth it!"  
  
At that, Harry managed a rueful grin.  
  
"I can imagine," he chuckled, breaking forth into laughter himself. "I can't believe I fell for that!"  
  
Severus smirked at him, black eyes still dancing with laughter.  
  
"Really, though," the Potions Master continued more seriously, "I couldn't be more pleased about your improvement in Potions."  
  
"Why is that? I thought you'd be upset because it might make people suspicious of us. That's why I was trying to keep it quiet," said Harry.  
  
"I'm glad you tried to be discreet about it, but I think your friend Miss Granger's comment will help dispel most suspicions. Everyone will think you've just been studying very hard. Come, we should be heading up to Albus' office by now."  
  
Harry trudged up the stairs behind Snape, fixing a mask of sullenness upon his face again. After all, he was supposed to be dealing with an accusation of cheating. Mentally, however, his thoughts were dwelling with his father's behaviour after the class had let out. He concealed a grin. Who would have thought that the dour Potions Master could play a joke and had a sense of humour? Ron and Hermione would never believe Harry if he told them. The young wizard was once again certain that the prank war between Snape and the Mauraders had not been one-sided. Maybe he could ask his father about that someday.  
  
As the pair reached the stone gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office, Harry couldn't help but be reminded of the last time they had gone to the Headmaster's office together. To do the Paternis Veritas test, and learn of their true relationship. Almost a week ago, now. He and Snape hadn't had that long to get to know each other, but Harry thought there was hope for them. We haven't killed each other yet, at least, he thought wryly. And Snape- when he wasn't playing the role of the "greasy git," seemed to be all right.  
  
Dumbledore was waiting for them as they entered the office. Fawkes the pheonix, sitting on his perch, trilled at them in greeting.  
  
"Severus, Harry," the Headmaster greeted them, smiling. "So glad you both could make it. Please, take a seat."  
  
The white-bearded old wizard clapped his hands once over the desk, and a tray bearing tea things appeared on the desk. As Severus brought Dumbledore up-to-date on what had happened in the Potions classroom, the Headmaster calmly poured them all cups of the steaming brown beverage.  
  
"We need to find a better way for you and Harry to spend some time together that's not too suspicious. You can only assign him so many detentions, you know." Dumbledore passed the sugar to Harry, who kept his eyes fixed upon his teacup.  
  
"Ye-esss........." Severus drew the syllable out, sounding rather hesitant. This rather surprised Harry, who had always associated the Potions Master with self-assuredness. But the boy reckoned that this side of Snape was one hidden behind the facade he wore publicly.  
  
"Did you have something in mind, Severus?" asked Albus.  
  
"Yes- well, sort of. You see, Harry here-" Severus locked eyes with his son for a brief moment- "seems to have recently developed a knack for Potions. So- well, what I was thinking was that maybe we could say Harry was getting additional tutoring in Potions, or that he was working on an extra-credit Potions project or something. I know Flitwick and Minerva have done something similar for students who have shown an aptitude for their respective subjects. Granted, I have never done so before, but.........if Harry's interested, the option's open."  
  
Snape did not sound at all sure that Harry would be agreeable to such an idea. Still, to Harry's ear, there had been a faint note of shyness and hopefulness in the man's voice.  
  
"That sounds like an excellent plan to me," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "Harry? What do you think? It's your choice, after all."  
  
Harry studied his now-cold tea, mulling the idea over in his mind. He had liked the idea of knowing Healing Potions, when his father had come to visit him in the Hospital Wing. And there was no denying that the knowledge could be very useful at some point. Plus, he would have the benefit of private tuteledge. The question was, did he really want to spend time with Snape? Dumbledore had urged Harry earlier to give his father a chance. At that point, Harry had been too shocked with his new knowledge to be very open-minded towards Snape. Dumbledore gave him a second chance, the young wizard thought.  
  
"All right," he said. "I'll do it. But I'd like to work on Healing Potions, if that's okay. Given how much trouble I seem to get into, it'd probably be a good idea for me to know a lot about them."  
  
"Agreed!" said Severus, a smile lighting up his face.  
  
Father and son began to outline what this new schedule would involve when Dumbledore interrupted them.  
  
"As glad as I am to see you both so agreeable to this idea, I'm afraid Harry needs to be going. Tryouts for the Gryffindor Quidditch team are about to begin, and I believe his teammates are waiting for him."  
  
"Oh, no!" Harry exclaimed. "Blimey, I completely forgot! Ron's going to kill me if I don't show up- I promised him I'd be there."  
  
"Go on then," smiled the Headmaster. "Off with you, now."  
  
"See you later!" Harry called as he bolted from the office.  
  
Racing down the stairs, he sprinted through the castle and towards the Quidditch pitch. Ron and the other students trying out were standing nervously together. Slowing down to a walk, Harry headed towards the group. Before he got there, however, Ron met him halfway.  
  
"Good of you to finally show up," said the redhead, half-teasingly, half- accusingly.  
  
"Sorry I'm late- Snape dragged me up to Dumbledore's office and I just now got out."  
  
At the mention of the Potions Master's name, Ron scowled.  
  
"Greasy git. I dunno Harry, he really seems to have it in for you, and not just because he hated your dad. You didn't get in trouble because of that quiz, did you? Mind you, I don't see how you've suddenly been able to understand Potions so well, but I don't believe you cheated. Dumbledore didn't believe Snape, did he?"  
  
"No," said Harry. "Actually.........once Dumbledore managed to convince Snape that I hadn't cheated, Snape got it into his head that, since I seemed to be doing so well in Potions, I should do this extra-credit Potions project.  
  
"What?" said Ron disbelievingly. "Snape wants YOU to do an extra-credit project? What'd you say?"  
  
"I told him yes- but only if it was on Healing Potions."  
  
"You said YES?" the youngest Weasley boy looked as though he couldn't believe his ears. "Why would you VOLUNTEER to spend any more time with Hogwarts' snarkiest professor? You're nutters, mate!"  
  
"I know he's a git, but I sort of reckoned that, with the trouble I seem to get into, the sooner I learned about Healing Potions, the better."  
  
"I see your reasoning, mate, but, still.........Snape? Couldn't you have just asked Hermione to tell you everything she knows about Healing Potions, if you're so interested?"  
  
"It's not the same-" Harry started to say, but was interrupted by a loud shout from Angelina.  
  
"Oi, Weasley! Get your arse over here if your still planning to try out!"  
  
Harry wished Ron luck before heading over to his teammates. Angelina had been appointed captain and had the final say in selecting the new Keeper, but she had insisted that the rest of the team observe the tryouts. Katie and Alicia, as Chasers, would be the ones actually testing the prospective Keepers today. Sternly (and she could be quite intimidating when she put her mind to it), Angelina adressed the team.  
  
"All right, here's the drill. I want you to observe all the would-be Keepers, looking for strengths and weaknesses. I'll be consulting with all of you after tryouts are over."  
  
With that, tryouts were underway.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
End Chapter ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~ 


	15. Quidittch, Twins, and Secrets

[A/N]: Thanks to all who reviewed: **Kitala**, **Ariana Deralte**, **Mystical Witch**, **Moldanubikum**, **Hawk**, **Saavik**, **Lei Dumbledore**, **flyeagle**, **fizzysoda**, **Annie**, **Sevvi**, **Iniysa**, **Jstarz927**, **Kate**, and **Kat**.

Sorry if I don't get into the Quidittch as much as you would like; it's not really my thing.  If I were a Hogwarts student, I'd probably be a Ravenclaw: the studious type.

Responses to reviews and other schmoo:

**Annie**: Your comment about Harry calling Snape "Dad" made me think.  I was trying to get across the impression of Harry _reminding_ himself to think of Snape as his father, adjusting to the change in their relationship.  Notice that Harry still hasn't called Snape "Dad" aloud or to his face.  Guess I didn't make that clear enough.  Thanks for the honesty in your review.

**flyeagle**: Yeah, I have to admit I think the end of this fic will be a long way off.  The story seems to have taken on a life of it's own, as I've realized that there are so many issues to be addressed!  I think it will probably be closer to a novelette length than a full-fledged novel, though.

**Mystical Witch**: Practical jokes on the Weasley twins?  *grins*  Now that's an idea… 

Bellum Domesticum

Chapter 15: Quidittch, Twins, and Secrets

The Quidittch pitch was a flurry of activity.  The Quaffle seemed to be everywhere as Alicia and Katie did their utmost to score through the three hoops being guarded by the prospective Keepers.  Each of the would-be Quidittch players, without exception, stood by nervously as they waited for their turns.  Harry, Fred, and George stood off to the side together, commenting on the likeliness of those trying out.

"That second year looks like he's terrified of the Quaffle- definitely not."

"But he's got fast enough reflexes to avoid getting hit by the Quaffle…he might do, with enough training."

"He'd need a sodding awful lot of training, George!" protested Fred.  "Ron's much better than this bloke is.  After all, our dear ickle Ronniekins had us to work with." He grinned outrageously.

As if on cue, Angelina called Ron for his turn.  The youngest Weasley boy was the last one to try out, as Angelina had decided to go in alphabetical order.  Mounting his broom, Ron pushed off smoothly and took his place in front of the goalposts.

Ron's freckled face was set in determination.  On the ground below him, Fred and George were watching their younger brother keenly.  For once, they were not clowning around.

Katie and Alicia began attempting to score goals, giving it serious effort.  It seemed, however, that no matter how hard they tried, Ron was able to block each shot.  The two Chasers began using some of their best and trickiest moves, to no avail.  Not a single one was able to get past the redhead.

Finally, Angelina called a halt.  Bringing her broom back down to the ground, she signaled for everyone to gather around her.  

"Right.  Thanks to everyone who tried out today.  I'll be discussing your performances with the rest of the team, and results will be posted inside the common room tomorrow morning.  So don't go pestering me- or any of the other players- to find out if you made it.  Dismissed!"

As he wasn't sure how long the team meeting would take, Harry told Ron he'd meet him in the Great Hall for dinner.

"You were fantastic, Ron.  I really hope you make it."

"Thanks.  Put in a good word for me, will you, Harry?"

"Will do."

"See you later, then."

The team gathered in the locker rooms for their discussion, not that there was much need for one.  As the only person trying out who had not missed a single shot, Ron was clearly the most skilled of the lot.  It was decided unanimously that Ron would become Keeper.  The others trying out would have a better chance at making the team next year, as Angelina, Fred and George would all have graduated by then.

In the meantime, Angelina made it clear that she would be just as stern a taskmaster as Oliver Wood had been.  Practices were to begin in a few weeks; Gryffindor's first match would be at the end of October, against Ravenclaw.

The meeting concluded, the Gryffindor Quidittch players walked back to the castle, going their separate ways.  Fred and George lagged behind, signaling Harry to stay with them.  The twins waited until the others were out of earshot before speaking- and quite seriously, in contrast to the usual jocularity they had exhibited just moments ago.

"Harry, mate, we just-"

"-wanted to ask how you were doing."

"With you and Ron being best mates and all, you're like another Weasley to us."

"So we wanted to tell you that, if you ever need to talk to us about the whole Snape situation, you can."

"Like we said before, we won't blab.  We just reckoned that, since you're not allowed to tell Ron and Hermione-"

"I mean, no one except you, Snape, Dumbledore, and us knows, right?"

"-it might help to have someone closer to your own age to talk to."

Harry managed a tight smile.  He was touched that the twins were concerned about him, and it was true that he wished he had someone to talk to about finding out Snape was his father.  But now that he had the opportunity, he wasn't sure he could bring himself to do it.  This was a feeling not unlike the one he had had before telling his father about his summer with the Dursleys.  Rationally, Harry knew he had felt better getting it off his chest, but emotionally, he felt numb inside.  And frankly, he was scared of how he might act if he completely let loose everything he felt about the whole situation.

"Thanks, guys.  I appreciate it, I really do.  And I do want to talk to you about this, at some point…but I just- I just _can't_ yet, okay?"

The two identical, flaming red heads nodded.

"We understand."

"Yeah."

Fred clapped Harry on the shoulder as the three walked the rest of the way back to the castle.  Harry yelped, but so loudly that the twins thought anything was amiss.  Fred had inadvertently clapped his hand over a cut from Uncle Vernon's belt that had not completely healed, causing the scab to jar.

"So, did we tell you about what we've been working on lately?"

Harry grinned, despite himself.

"Would this have anything to do with what you two were sniggering on in the common room last night?"

George placed a hand over his heart in mock offense.

"My dear sir, surely you don't think we'd actually carry out any of our _serious_ work in the _common room_?"

The dark-haired wizard cocked an eyebrow at them.

"Oh?"

"No, our _real_ work is conducted in an unused classroom in the dungeons."

"Now you're starting to sound like Snape," Harry said.  

"That's _your_ job, mate.  Anyway, about our latest invention…"

Gratefully, Harry let himself be drawn into the twins' eager descriptions of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes' latest little projects until the trio reached the Great Hall, whereupon they amicably went their separate ways.  

*          *            *

Over a dinner of beef stew, Harry related to Hermione the same version he had told Ron of the meeting between himself, Snape, and Dumbledore.

"An extra-credit Potions project?  I wouldn't have thought you'd agree to do something like that.  _I'm_ supposed to be the swotty one!" the bushy-haired witch grinned.  

"Mind you, I am glad you've found an academic subject that interests you so much.  You've really got a gift for Potions, you know."

Harry flushed, feeling an odd mixture of pleasure at Hermione's compliment and fear that she'd start to figure out that he'd inherited his father's gift for potions-making.

"Rubbish.  I just studied harder than I usually do, is all.  Didn't want Snape to have another excuse to take off points."

"Why does he always seem to have this vendetta against Gryffindors?  I bet he acts differently with his Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff classes," growled Ron.

"I think you know why, Ron," said Hermione.  "But here's not the place to discuss it."

Harry wasn't sure it was such a good idea to let Hermione discuss it at all; she had an uncanny ability to figure things out.  Unfortunately, he had no idea how to deter her.

"What-" began Ron.

"Come on, you two.  If you really want to discuss this, let's go somewhere more private and I'll tell you what I think.  Did you finish your dinner, Harry?"

Harry rolled his eyes in mild exasperation, secretly grateful for his friends' concern.  Under Ron and Hermione's watchful eyes, he had in fact, eaten a complete plateful of stew instead of just picking at his meal.  They hadn't had to say a word, just look pointedly back and forth between Harry and his plate.  His friends probably thought he was developing some sort of eating disorder, but the truth was that he wasn't.  It was usual for Harry to skip or pick at meals when he was under stress, which he certainly was now.  Of course, Ron and Hermione didn't know why he was stressed.

"Yes, I did.  No worries, I'm not going to starve myself.  Now, c'mon, let's go."

Rising from their seats at the Gryffindor table, the trio made their way from the Great Hall towards the library.

*          *            *

In an out-of-the-way corner, Hermione explained her theory on why Snape picked on the Gryffindors while favoring the Slytherins.

"Right," she began.  "We know that, even though Snape always acts evil, Dumbledore trusts him.  And Harry, you told us what Dumbledore said in the Pensieve last year: that Snape used to be a Death Eater, but he turned spy for us before You-Know-Who's downfall.  Dumbledore must've believed You-Know-Who would be back again and that Snape might have to go back to spying.  So in order to convince all the Death Eaters' children- like Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle- that he was still loyal to You-Know-Who, Snape has to favor the Slytherins and pick on the Gryffindors."

Harry blanched.  Hermione had hit the nail on the head, and it was decidedly close to the truth for Harry's comfort.

"He _has_ gone back to spying," the green-eyed wizard said softly.

His two best friends looked at him sharply.

"How can you be so sure?" asked Ron.

"Er- y'see, when I was in the hospital wing- at the end of last year- Dumbledore…asked him to…though not in so many words."

Harry did not add that Dumbledore would not have asked Snape to do so unless he had to, to keep the Ministry from throwing the Potions Master back in Azkaban.

"Why would he have agreed to go back?  It'd be extremely risky," Hermione pointed out.  "Snape would have to convince You-Know-Who and all the other Death Eaters that he hadn't defected in the first place.  Surely Dumbledore wouldn't have let Snape place himself in such danger!"

"I don't think Dumbledore had much choice," Harry said quietly.

Ron and Hermione looked at him even more sharply than they had just moments before.

"You know something you're not telling us, don't you Harry?" asked Hermione bluntly.

Harry swallowed, his expression growing pained.

"If I did…know…something…believe me, there'd be good reason I couldn't tell you.  I'm really, really sorry."

His friends' faces reflected the hurt they felt at these words, and Harry felt his heart sink.

"I can't believe you don't trust us!  We're your best friends, Harry." Hermione bit out.

"It'd be too much of a risk for you to know.  And you're already in enough danger as it is for being my friends-"

"Since when have we worried about danger to ourselves where you're concerned, mate?" Ron cut in angrily.

"It's not just the three of us who could be in danger if I were to tell you!  I really wish you could be in on this, but Dumbledore made me promise not to tell you.  It's not that I don't trust you- I'd trust you with my life.  Please, believe me."

"This has something to do with that meeting you had with Snape and Professor Dumbledore this afternoon, I know it!" snapped Hermione.

Suddenly her eyes grew very wide.

"Oh!"

"'Oh' what, 'mione?" demanded Ron impatiently.

"It all adds up…how your appearance changed so dramatically over the summer…not needing your glasses any more…the detention with Snape…then going to the Hospital Wing…how you've suddenly become so good in Potions…But- how?  How is it possible?"

"How is _what_ possible?" 

"How could Harry be Snape's son?"


	16. Genius Loci

[A/N]: Thanks to those who reviewed Chapter 15: **flyeagle**, **Lei Dumbledore**, **fizzysoda**, **hpz26**, **snickerdoodle**, **Iniysa**, **leggy-stinks**, **Erin**, **Saavik**, **Immortal Rose**, **Joshua**, and **Luna Rose/Phoenix Child**.

Bellum Domesticum

Chapter 16:  Genius Loci

"How could Harry be Snape's son?" Hermione asked.  She looked stunned.

Ron, flabbergasted, looked at his bushy-haired friend as though she had gone mad.

"What in Merlin's name are you talking about, 'mione?  Harry can't be Snape's son- he just _can't_!  He's Harry bloody _Potter_…not Harry _Snape_!"

Harry wished the floor would open up and swallow him where he was.  He had wanted to tell Ron and Hermione terribly- so why did he feel so awful now that they (well, Hermione) had figured it out for themselves?

"Go on, Harry.  Tell her there's no way you could be Snape's son.  She's got to be wrong," said Ron.

Harry didn't say anything.  Suddenly his hands seemed extremely fascinating.  As a very uncomfortable silence ensued, the library was so quiet the dark-haired wizard could hear the seconds ticking by from the hand on Ron's wristwatch.  

"You mean- she's _right_?  It's true, then?"  Ron whispered.

Harry forced himself to look up and meet his friends' eyes, though it was the last thing he really wanted to do.  Slowly, guardedly, he nodded.

"Oh, Harry…" Hermione said softly, her eyes filling with tears.

Harry felt the wall he had built around himself in the last week begin to crumble.

"I wanted to tell you both so bad," he said hoarsely.  "But…Dumbledore was worried that if either of you were- were to be captured by Voldemort, he'd…torture the information out of you.

Dumbledore said…he said that the only thing keeping Snape out of Azkaban is his position as spy.  The Ministry doesn't trust him, even though he risked himself more than enough times in the first war to prove he's not loyal to Voldemort any longer.  If the Ministry found out about me, they'd probably throw him straight back in prison."

"Why would they do that?  You'd think they would let him stop spying, if they knew he had a son or daughter," said Ron.

Harry chuckled bitterly.

"Oh no, my existence is just one more reason for them to distrust Snape even more.  You see…" the words stuck in Harry's throat.  This was the part he had avoided thinking about as much as possible ever since he had found out.

"I always thought I had had two loving parents who chose to have me in spite of how dangerous the times were…things would be so much easier if I could just say that my mum and Snape used to be a couple before she married James Potter, or even if my mum had had an affair with Snape.  No, with my luck…" Harry realised he was rambling.

"Let's just put it this way: you're looking at the product of a rape.  It was because he raped my mum that Snape changed sides and went over to Dumbledore.  He never knew he had a son- that _I_ was his son- until we found out at that detention earlier this week."

Ron's freckled face was both dumbfounded and furious.

"I don't believe it!  Snape- did that- to your mum, and you're covering for him…_why_, exactly?  Why not let him get thrown back in Azkaban?  He deserves it, you know he does!"  

It was clear Ron was forcibly restraining himself from bellowing.  Hermione turned on the redhead sharply, wiping the tears that were streaming down her face angrily away with one hand.

"Don't be an ass, Ron!  What Snape did as a Death Eater was awful, but he's on _our_ side now, and Dumbledore trusts him and thinks he's valuable enough to protect!  If that's not enough, think about this: Harry's been stuck with the Dursleys ever since he was a baby, and you know what they're like.  Now that it turns out he does have a parent, of _course_ Harry would want to get to know him!"

"What about Sirius?  He's Harry's godfather- the next best thing to a parent.  Surely he'd be better than _Snape_!"

"Be that as it may, Sirius can't be there all the time for Harry.  Until Peter Pettigrew is caught and Sirius can clear his name, it's just too dangerous for Sirius to communicate or visit with Harry often.  But Snape's here at Hogwarts, and Harry can see _him_ more or less whenever he needs to."

Trust Hermione to get straight to the heart of the matter.  The thing was, though, that Harry still didn't feel comfortable enough around Snape to come to him with any problems, unless it involved their secret being endangered.

"Hold on a tic," said Ron.  "How come you don't look like Snape?" he asked Harry.

"Dumbledore reckons my mum must've placed some sort of charm on me to make me look like James," Harry began to explain.

"Of course!" said Hermione.  "It must've begun to wear off over the summer; that's why you looked so different.  I suppose Dumbledore's replaced it, then?"

"More or less.  He's not sure what exactly my mum did, so he had to come up with something on his own to disguise me."

A strange expression appeared on Ron's face.

"So…you know what you actually look like…without the disguise, that is?"

"Yeah," said Harry softly.  Then he grinned wryly.  "At least I don't have Snape's nose, thank goodness!  But you can't miss the resemblance between the two of us."

"Creepy!" breathed Ron.  "This is just so weird- _Snape_ has a _son_…and it's _you_, of all people…"

"No one can know," the dark-haired boy said in a low, intense voice.

His two friends nodded quickly.

"Of course…"

"Yeah, who'd want anyone to know Snape was their dad, anyway?"

"_Ron_!" snapped Hermione.

"Sorry, Harry…"

Any chance of privacy was then cut off by the arrival of a group of Ravenclaws in the library.  Seeing this, Ron, Hermione, and Harry escaped to the Gryffindor common room.

*          *            *

Harry woke early the next morning, not long after the sun came up.  Listening to the familiar noises of Neville's soft snores and either Dean or Seamus turning over in their sleep, Harry felt the most relaxed he had all week.  Ron must have already left for his detention with Filch.  Harry was glad it wasn't with Snape; that would have been extremely awkward.  The boy wrinkled his nose.  He was going to have to tell his father that Ron and Hermione were now in on the secret, and he wasn't looking forward to doing so.  

A rumbling in his stomach convinced him to get out of bed, dress, and go down to the Great Hall for some breakfast.  On his way out of the Common Room, Harry glanced to see if Angelina had posted the results of yesterday's Quidittch tryouts.  She hadn't.  Harry grinned, looking forward to Ron's reaction when the Weasley boy found out he had made the team.

The Great Hall was almost empty, as most students were still asleep.  Helping himself to scrambled eggs, toast, and pumpkin juice, Harry performed his morning ritual of reviewing the Daily Prophet.  There seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary.  Hermione had released Rita Skeeter at the end of the summer, and the reporter had returned to writing for the wizarding newspaper, her articles considerably muted.  The boy was mildly amused to see a short article mentioning that Gilderoy Lockhart (now at St Mungo's) seemed to be making no progress in recovering his memory and had been confirmed permanently insane.

Speaking of insane…Harry grimaced.  _That's what Snape- I mean, my dad- is going to be like after I talk to him._  He sighed.  _Might as well get it over with._  He shuffled out of the Great Hall towards the dungeons, taking as long as he could.  All too soon for his liking, the heavy wooden door to his father's office was staring him in the face.  With his knuckles, he gave the door a few sharp raps.

Harry was just about to push open the door when he found himself looking up at his father, who was standing in the doorway, one hand on the door handle.

"Let's go to my rooms; they're connected to one of the laboratories, and there's less chance of us being bothered there," said the Potions Master's deep voice.

"Er- okay," replied Harry.  To his mortification, his voice chose that moment to crack.  Harry thought he saw the corners of his father's mouth twitch at that, but he couldn't be sure.

He followed behind his father's billowing black robes, stretching his legs to keep up with the brisk pace the man set.  _He really does look like an overgrown bat, with his robes like that_, Harry thought to himself.  The thought almost made him smile.  

Severus stopped in front of a large portrait of a stern man dressed in what looked like medieval robes.

"Good morning, Severus," it said in a high-pitched, clipped voice.

"Salazar," nodded the Potions Master politely.

Harry looked at the portrait more closely.  Could this be Salazar Slytherin, one of the original four founders of Hogwarts?

"Who is this you've brought with you?" asked Salazar curiously.  

"This," said Severus, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder and gently pushing him forward, "is Harry.  He'll be visiting down here from time to time."

"Hello," said Harry.

"A pleasure to meet you, young man," said Salazar.  Turning to Severus, he snapped imperiously, "Severus, are you going to stand there all day?  Go on and give me the bloody password already!"

"Manners, manners, Salazar," drawled Severus.

Salazar drummed his fingers impatiently on the frame of his portrait, glaring.

"_Basilisk_."

"_Thank_ you," said Salazar snippily, and swung aside to reveal the entranceway.  "Young people nowadays…the lot of you think you're so clever…in my day, we were more _respectful_ of our elders!"  When Harry and Severus had entered the chamber, the portrait slammed shut behind them.

"Salazar is a rather…temperamental…as you no doubt noticed," said Severus.  "You actually caught him on a good day, believe it or not."

"Is he Salazar as in Salazar Slytherin, one of the original four founders?" asked Harry.

"So you picked up on that, did you?  Yes, he is."

Harry wasn't sure what to say to that.

"Oh."

Severus grinned, making him look more youthful.

"'Oh,' indeed.  Not what you might have expected, is he?  He decided it would be more interesting to snipe at me than to be brooding and silent all the time.  I can assure you, he's mellowed with age.  He used to be far worse."

Seeing Harry glancing around curiously, Severus continued, "Here, let me give you the tour before we get to work."

The Potions Masters' chambers, though small, were comfortably and simply furnished in rich, earthy tones.  Harry was pleasantly surprised (not to mention relieved) at not finding himself surrounded by silver and green.  He supposed that his father wanted a break from Slytherin colours.  The main room was lined with overflowing, cluttered bookshelves and contained a squashy sofa and an overstuffed armchair.  It also had a fireplace (unlit, probably to keep out unwanted visitors) and a small table with a couple of chairs.  A chessboard was set up, ready for play, on the table.  Beyond the main room was a bedroom and small bathroom.

"If you ever need to come down here, just tell Salazar the password and he'll let you in," said Severus as they walked through the doorway of the Potions Masters' private laboratory.

"Okay.  Er, there's something you should know," Harry felt like he was about to drop a bombshell, but he didn't know how else to broach the subject.  "You know how I told you Ron and Hermione knew me so well they'd probably figure out the truth?  Well, they…er, they did, yesterday after dinner."

To Harry's immense relief, the Potions Master did not explode.  His father looked annoyed, but admitted, grudgingly, that it was probably bound to happen sooner or later.

"Tell them to be on their guards, then.  It's a good thing you three worked on hexes so much last year.  Maybe I should teach you some more, as well."

"_Are you sssure he isss old enough to learn sssuch ssspellsss, Ssseverusss?_" hissed a sibilant, nonhuman voice.

Startled, Harry looked around for the source of the voice.  There appeared to be no one else in sight but himself and his father.  To Harry's confusion, Severus looked upwards, towards the ceiling.

"He's older than I was when I learned them, Araxtus."

"_You had no choicccce_," countered the voice.  "_Let the lad enjoy what childhood he has left…he'll grow up sssoon enough as it issss_."

Severus made no reply.  Harry couldn't tell who his father had been speaking to until he saw a small pair of wings unfurl, upside-down, from the ceiling.  With a flutter, Araxtus the bat swooped down to land on Severus' shoulder.

"_Greetingsss, young one_," hissed Araxtus, folding his wings and inclining his dark, leathery head towards Harry.

"Harry, this is my familiar, Araxtus."

"How come you can talk?  I thought all bats were non-magical," blurted Harry before he could stop himself.

Araxtus chuckled, a whispery, rippling sound, like water from a stream traveling over pebbles.

"_You have much to learn about the magical world yet, Harry Potter.  Or sshhould I sssay, Sssnape?  There are indeed magical bats, though we are very few in number_."

"Oh," said Harry, feeling rather foolish.

"_Do not feel badly for not knowing, young one.  You are young yet, and you are here at Hogwartsss to learn, after all.  Ssspeaking of learning- Ssseverusss, weren't you going to teach him sssome Healing Potionsss_?"

"Yes," said Severus.

"_Might I sssugessst beginning with an adder'sss tongue-based potion_?"

"I was going to start with alder…but then, you have this irksome habit of always being right, so I'd better follow your suggestion."

If bats could smirk, Harry would swear Araxtus did so.

"Would you care to join us, Araxtus?" Severus' black eyes were sparkling mischievously.

The bat gave an undignified squawk of protest.  "_Certainly not!  You sshhould know better than to asssk, Sssseverusss_."

"I didn't think so.  In that case, you'd probably prefer to inspect that plate of fruit on the table over there…"

"_That'sss more like it_…" hissed Araxtus, taking flight and honing in on what was, presumably, his breakfast.

"Foolish creature," said Severus affectionately to the fruit bat.

"_Barmy magician!_" retorted Araxtus, pausing in the process of sucking the juice from a piece of pineapple.

"That's enough, Araxtus, eat your breakfast and be quiet.  Come along, Harry.  It's high time we got to work."

*          *            *

End Chapter 16

[A/N]: I don't know where Salazar and Araxtus came from, they just showed up on my computer screen and wove their way into the chapter.  Anyway, hope you enjoyed reading Chapter 16 as much as I enjoyed writing it.  


	17. Ophioglossum vulgatum

[A/N]: Thanks to all who took time to review and comment on the story: **Saavik**, **Saerry Snape**, **Kitala**, **jstarz927**, **Them Girl**, **Lei Dumbledore**, **fizzysoda**, **Jarvey**, **Futon**, **hpz26**, and **alexgray**.  You guys are great!

**Futon**: Your review brought up some good points; thanks for expressing your criticism in a constructive way and not flaming.  I agree that, in canon, Severus definitely seems to hate Harry.  Nevertheless, I decided to portray him as though much of the way he treated Harry in canon was an act.  Also, in regards to your second comment: the test to determine whether or not Sev was Harry's father was _not_ a potion.  It was a spell.  I don't think Sev would be likely to have such a potion on hand, either.  Thanks for reviewing!

**hpz26**: I think Sev's one of the most interesting characters in canon, another reason why I wanted to do this fic.  Harry will hopefully learn even more about Snape as the story progresses.

**alexgray**: Thanks for reviewing.  There's good reason I decided to have Ron and Hermione know…but that won't be explained until later…mwahahahaha!    

Bellum Domesticum

Chapter 17

Severus' laboratory (or "workroom," as he called it) was fascinating.  The store of ingredients alone was filled with more unfamiliar items than Harry could shake a stick at.  Several cauldrons of various types and sizes were set up, and shelves were lined with vials and bottles of more potions than the young wizard had ever seen together at one time.  The different hues of the bottles, reflected all over the place, produced a kaleidoscopic effect on the floor, ceiling, and walls.  Normally Harry would have been indifferent to the aesthetic qualities of a room, but in this case he couldn't help but think the myriad of colours made the potions workroom beautiful.  

"Luckily I picked up some adder's tongue from the greenhouse only yesterday, so we'll be able to use it fresh," said Severus as he took some out of a jar from the store cupboard.  "Notice the distinctive shape of the leaves?  That's how this particular fern got its name; the one leaf and its stalk look like a serpent's tongue.  In the wild, it can be found in moist meadows and pastures.  It's one of many plants that can be used for treating wounds."

Guiding Harry over to a tabletop, the Potions Master set the boy to work chopping the leaves into fine pieces.  Whilst Harry was occupied with the leaves, Severus heated up a cauldron, melting oil and suet together.

"Now add the leaves to the cauldron, and let the whole mixture boil until the adder's tongue becomes crisp."

The two of them tidied up the workplace as the mixture boiled.  When the preparation was ready, Severus extinguished the flame under the cauldron, and Harry strained off and removed the leaves.  The remaining liquid was poured into a jar and set aside to cool.

"Is that all there is to it?  That seemed like a pretty uncomplicated potion," said Harry.

"Most Healing potions are very simple and have few ingredients, unlike other potions," replied Severus.  "The most important thing is to have the correct concentrations of ingredients.  Too much of an herb may be lethal, but too little might not be effective enough to produce a cure."

A loud growling noise from Harry's stomach (which the teenager suddenly realised felt quite empty) curtailed whatever the Potions Master had intended to say next.

"Sorry," muttered Harry, embarrassed.  "I did eat breakfast, but it's nowhere near time for lunch yet, so I don't know why I'm hungry again…"

"You're probably going through a growth spurt.  I remember feeling hungry all the time when I was your age, no matter how much I ate.  Tell you what, let's get you something to eat, and by the time you finish, that potion should have cooled."

"Okay," said Harry.

They left the laboratory, returning to the main room of Severus' chambers.  With a wave of the Potions Master's wand, the chessboard was magically returned to its box, the pieces put away and the board neatly folded.  Severus prepared mugs of tea for both of them, then rustled up a scone and a couple of apples for Harry.

"Tuck in to that lot," said Severus.  Harry needed little encouragement, and began crunching on an apple immediately.

"Do your relatives feed you?" asked Severus suddenly.  "You always look too skinny after returning from the summer holidays."

Harry explained about Dudley's diet, and how Aunt Petunia had insisted the entire family follow it.

"I try to think about the Dursleys as little as possible during the school year," said Harry, halting that line of inquiry.  He decided to voice something that had been nagging at him, though he knew it was a rather personal question.  "Araxtus said you were younger than I am now when you had to learn all those hexes.  What did he mean, that you didn't have a choice about learning them?"

Severus' face grew stony.

"_Never_ ask me that again…it's no concern of yours, understand?" he hissed, dark eyes glittering dangerously.  Long, slender fingers dug into this tabletop with such pressure that the knuckles were white.  "There are some questions better left unanswered."

Harry had instinctively recoiled in his seat at the abrupt change in his father's manner, acutely reminded that Severus Snape was not a man to be messed with.

"S-sorry," he stammered.  "I shouldn't have asked, you're right…"

His father's stony countenance softened somewhat.

"You shouldn't have," agreed the Potions Master stiffly.  "It's not something I talk about.  Rather like your reluctance to talk about the Dursleys."

Harry nodded.  _Great.  I knew he'd blow up at me at some point_.  He was beginning to regret having come.  Nevertheless, Harry strove to break the awkward silence that had sprung up between himself and his father.

"Do you think the potion's cooled down by now?"

"Probably," replied Severus.  "Let's go check it, shall we?"

Despite the change of subject, the atmosphere remained frosty as they returned to the workroom.  

"So, do you think you could make this potion on your own now?"

"Er…yes, I think so."

"Good- because tomorrow we're going to make this potion again.  I will observe you as you work, but I won't interfere unless you're about to do something dangerous."

"_Tomorrow?_" protested Harry.  This was going to be more work than he had originally thought.  He would probably have to get out _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ and revise sometime later today.  Wonderful.

"Yes, tomorrow," said Severus evenly.  Harry's face remained dismayed.  "I wouldn't be asking you to make it so soon if I didn't believe you were capable.  I think you'll find it easier than you think."

"If you say so," muttered Harry.

"How's the back?" his father asked, shifting the conversation to a different topic. 

"Okay, I guess.  The scabs are horribly itchy."

"Don't scratch at them," said Severus sternly.  "It'll make them take longer to heal and increase the chance that you'll have scars."  Frowning suddenly, he turned Harry around to look more closely at something on the boy's shoulder.

"What?" asked Harry, confused.

"What happened here?  It looks like this cut's opened up again; the blood's soaked through your T-shirt."  Severus' tone had changed from stern to accusatory…or was that concerned?  _Severus Snape, concerned?_  _Yeah, right_, thought Harry.  

"I don't know," said Harry defensively.  Then he remembered something.  "Wait a minute…one of the twins clapped me on the shoulder yesterday, right where that cut is.  It must've opened up then.  I guess I didn't notice the blood when I put on the T-shirt this morning."

Severus looked as though he were debating whether or not to tell Harry something.  With his next sentence, he seemed to have decided.

"Harry…it's a bit early to know for certain, but I think some of those cuts are already becoming scars.  They may fade eventually, but only time will tell."

"Great," snarled Harry bitterly.  "Another set of scars to add to my collection.  Just what I need."

Severus took in the clothes Harry was wearing: baggy, worn jeans at least three sizes too large, held up by a belt, and a thin T-shirt so old it was fraying.

"Don't your relatives provide you with decent clothing?"

"No," said Harry curtly.  Except for shoes, he couldn't recall ever getting a single item of clothing from the Dursleys that hadn't been secondhand.  

Severus growled something under his breath that Harry couldn't catch.  

"What?" demanded Harry.

"Never mind," said Severus.  "We might as well make use of the adder's tongue ointment for your back.  Araxtus probably had that in mind when he suggested making the potion in the first place."

"Er…yeah.  Okay," responded the boy glumly.

Whilst Severus carefully dabbed the potion on Harry's cuts, the Potions Master thought over all that his son had told him about the Dursleys.  It was enough to convince him that Harry would be better off somewhere else during the summer holidays.  There was time to deal with that later, however.

*          *            *

Harry left not long after his back had been tended to.  His morning with Snape had been…well, passable.  There had been some rocky moments, but the rest had been all right- better than he had expected, in any case.  At least he could talk to Ron and Hermione about it now.  A grin spread across his face.  Ron would long be up by now, and Angelina had probably posted the results of yesterday's Quidittch tryouts.  Harry couldn't wait to see Ron's reaction.

[A/N]: The "potion" that Sev and Harry make in this chapter is based on a real recipe for an ointment used to heal wounds.  I'm by no means an expert when it comes to herbal medicines, but I thought it'd be fun to blend herbal remedies with the sort of magic one would expect in the world of Harry Potter.

**Sources consulted:**

Whiteman, Robin and Talbot, Rob.  _Brother Cadfael's Herb Garden: An Illustrated _

_Companion to Medieval Plants and their Uses_.  London: Little, Brown and Company, 1996.

http://www.botanical.com/mgmh/a/adder009.html

http://www.edinburgh.gov.uk/downloads/biodiversity/112%20Adders%20Tongue.pdf


	18. Dust and Dreams

[A/N]: I know, I know, it's been a while since my last update, but I just couldn't bring myself to actually begin writing this chapter.  The muses haven't been helpful to me of late.  Grr.  In any case, Chapter 18 is NOW HERE!!!  To those who reviewed the previous chapter, thanks and hugs to all of you: **Saavik**, **hpz26**, **Rickman's Girl, **Lei Dumbledore**, **bluebird161221**, ****white owl, ****Erin, **chochang913**, ****fizzysoda, ****jstarz927, **Sela**, ****Charley, ****Mystical Witch, **nekohebi**, **Calani**, ****Corrie, ****Captain-Emily, **Frances******Holland, and **xikum**.  I know it can be a real pain to take the time to review a fic, but it really means a lot to the author.  So many heartfelt thanks for your patience, support and encouragement!**

Replies to reviews and other schmoo:  

I was wondering how I had come up with the name "Araxtus" until I ran across a reference to Abraxus.  I realised that was where I had gotten the inspiration for naming Severus' familiar, so I ran a search to get a little info on Abraxus.  Basically, Abraxus is a Gnostic god.  In the Roman Empire, his name was etched upon amulets in the belief that it would offer the wearer protection.  For those who are curious (and for citation purposes), here's the website where I got the info from: 

Also, the title of the last chapter, "Ophioglossum vulgatum," is the Latin name for "Adder's Tongue."     

**jstarz927**: Hexes and explosions?  Why am I not surprised to hear that coming from you?

**Erin**: All in good time, all in good time.  (*grins*)  Yes, you will find out more about Sev, but he's not going to talk until he's ready.

**chochang913**: Truth be told, I haven't decided how big a role Araxtus will play.  He definitely has a personality all his own, though, and I wouldn't be surprised if his character does become more important later on.

**Sela, Charley, nekohebi**,** Calani, and** Corrie**: Thanks for reviewing, I'm glad you're enjoying the story.**

**Captain-Emily**: Draco will definitely have a supporting role in this story.  Can't say much more than that, though!

**Frances Holland**: I agree, boiling the leaves wouldn't usually make them turn crisp.  I was just following the recipe I found- and besides, it's supposed to be at least semi-magical, so perhaps Adder's Tongue reacts differently when it's used in a potion.  (*lol*).  Anyway, thanks for pointing that out and taking the time to review.  I appreciate it when a reviewer makes the effort to point out inconsistencies.

**xikum**: I like your idea about Gred and Forge inventing weapons as a tribute to Cedric's memory.  And no, I don't think Harry will be getting a snake any time soon.  There are already loads of other fics out there in which Harry has a snake, so I want to try and do something a bit different.  As to Salazar being OOC, you are the first reviewer to pick up on that!  Yes, there's an explanation forthcoming, but it probably won't be in this chapter.

Chapter 18: Dust and Dreams

Ron had returned from his detention with Filch looking slightly sullen and considerably covered with dust, having been made to clean one of the abandoned classrooms that hadn't been touched in years.  Consequently, the Weasley boy appeared rather as though he had been in a dust storm or battle, his brilliantly red hair a greyish colour that made him look fifty years old instead of fifteen.  After enduring much teasing from Fred and George, Ron grumbled that he was going to go and take a shower.

"There's something you might want to take a look at first," said George.

"Can't it wait?  This dust is driving me bonkers," asked Ron, in between sneezes.  Little clouds of dust rose each time he sneezed.

"Well, I suppose it can, if the results from the tryouts mean so little to you…" replied Fred airily.

.  "What-" sputtered Ron.  He looked over towards the parchment posted on the wall.  The redheaded boy automatically took a step towards it, only to halt in his tracks and shake his head, eyes narrowing in suspicion.  The twins doubtlessly knew whether or not he had made it, and they wouldn't be so cheerful if he hadn't…but bewitching the parchment was exactly the sort of joke the twins would pull.  "You read it, Harry.  I don't trust these two."

"Hey!" protested one of the twins in mild indignation.  Harry smirked.  He wouldn't put it past Fred or George to have tampered with the parchment, either.

Harry made a show of looking over Angelina's notice.  His face took on a worried expression, green eyes flickering back and forth between his friend and the parchment.

"Well?" asked Ron, his expression anxious.  Harry bit his lip.  Ron's face fell.  

"Congratulations, mate.  You made it," grinned Harry.

Ron gave a whoop as he jumped into the air.  A cloud of dust rose from his hair and clothing at the movement, forcing him to break into more sneezes and coughs.  Dean and Seamus, standing nearby, chuckled at the slightly ridiculous image Ron presented.  Even the usually timid Neville managed a broad grin.

"Oh, wow…" said Ron, when he had finally gotten his breath back and could resume breathing normally.  A wide grin threatened to split his freckled face in two.  "This is bloody fantastic…I can't believe it…"

Harry was more than pleased for his redheaded friend.  It was rare for Ron to be able to have his own moment of glory, without being overshadowed by either his elder brothers or Harry.

Still grinning madly, Ron left to go take a much-needed shower.  For his part, Harry settled himself at one of the tables with _Magical Drafts and Potions_ and _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_, determined not to embarrass himself in front of his father tomorrow by botching the potion. 

It didn't take him long to memorize the properties of adder's tongue and the steps for preparing the healing ointment.  Maybe Severus would be proven been right after all when he said that Harry would find the potion easy to make.

"Finding a liking for Potions, are you, Harry?" inquired Fred.  George elbowed his twin none-too-gently in disapproval of his brother's apparent insensitivity.  To his surprise, Harry didn't find himself as bothered by the question as he might have been.  He recognized the multiple meanings behind what Fred had asked, and he was relieved that the redhead had worded the question the way he had- there were other people in the Common Room.

"I'm not sure yet," the Potions Master's son responded.  "They're not always that likeable, it's true, but they're not as terrible as they used to be, either.  I think I could come to like them, with a little more time."

"Do you think you could help me with them, Harry?" asked Neville hopefully.  "You really seem to understand them lately, and Hermione's too busy with prefect duties to help me much any more."

"Er…" said Harry.  The idea of tutoring Neville, who had always been hopelessly inept in Potions, would probably involve a lot of hard work and wasn't particularly appealing.  On the other hand, Harry might well be able to help Neville understand the subject better.  And there was no denying that preventing Neville from causing more potions accidents would definitely be a good thing.  "Okay, yeah.  I'll help you."

"Great!  Thanks, Harry.  I really appreciate it," said Neville happily.

Harry smiled weakly in return.  

*          *          *

That night, Harry's slumber was troubled by a dream that was more than just a little unsettling.  Dementors surrounded him on all sides, their chilling effect made stronger by the fact that there were so many of them.  Trying to block out the sound of his mother's final screams, Harry frantically sought a happy memory to summon his Patronus.  The massive silvery stag appeared readily enough, but it did not charge down the Dementors.  _Why isn't it driving them away?_ Harry wondered bewilderedly, traces of panic beginning to rise within him.  The Dementors moved closer, sensing the ineffectiveness of the would-be Patronus.  To Harry's astonishment, Prongs' form began to change, becoming ghostly, smaller, and human.  A human none other than James Potter.

"Help me!"

The man Harry had, until recently, believed to be his father made no move except to cross his arms over his chest and look on dispassionately as the Dementors drew nearer to the boy.  Before Harry could continue to plead with James for help, he felt his face being tilted upwards, the creature's rattling, raspy breath capturing his attention…this was it, he was going to receive the Kiss…his soul was going to be sucked out of him…  

With a gasp, Harry sat up straight in bed, breathing hard.  Sensing that his dorm mates were sound asleep, the dark-haired young wizard made himself lie back down and be quiet.  But his eyes remained open, and it was a long time before he drifted off to sleep again.

By the time Harry awoke again, it was late morning, and sunlight was shining relentlessly brightly through the tower window.  Harry felt groggy and disoriented, and his limbs felt sore.  Glancing at the watch Sirius had sent him for his birthday, he realised it was almost eleven o'clock.  The boy swore under his breath.  He was supposed to have met with his father an hour ago.  Snape was going to be livid.  

Leaping out of bed, Harry hastily threw on some clothes.  His stomach growled insistently, but he ignored it and raced out of the dorm towards the dungeons.

"_Basilisk_," he gasped to Salazar as he tried to get his breath back.

The portrait swung aside, and Harry hurriedly stepped into his father's chambers.

"Nice of you to decide to show up," said a familiar, sarcastic voice.

Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"Sorry.  I didn't mean to be late, I overslept-" he began to explain.

Severus looked at him with a trace of disbelief etched into his face.

"You…overslept," the Potions Master pronounced the word with fastidious distaste.    "Thought you'd catch up on your beauty sleep, did you?" he queried snidely.

"No," said Harry coldly.

"Then perhaps you'd care to explain why you slept in to such a late hour of the morning?"  Disapproval was evident in Severus' deep voice.

Harry squirmed inwardly.  No, he wouldn't care to explain.  The idea of admitting he had been unable to sleep because of a nightmare was distinctly embarrassing.  He could imagine how Snape would ridicule him if he told him.

"I couldn't sleep last night," he replied shortly.

Severus' face became inscrutable.

"Why not?"

Harry twisted the hem of his oversized T-shirt between his fingers as he mumbled something too low for Severus to understand.

"What did you say?"

The boy exhaled violently in exasperation.  "Nightmare," he sneered, something in his face daring the man to mock him.

Severus regarded his son, feeling a little guilty for having baited the boy.

"Of Voldemort?"

"No…" Harry hesitated, then added: "Dementors."

"I see," said Severus softly.  He recalled that the creatures had always affected Harry particularly badly, although he himself had only heard so through the school grapevine.  Draco Malfoy and the other Slytherins had certainly advertised the fact that the Dementors had caused Harry to faint on the train their third year.

To Harry's relief, his father let the subject drop and ushered him into the potions workroom.

Harry set to work on the Adder's Tongue potion, methodically chopping the leaves and keeping an eye on the heating cauldron.  

*          *          *

Over the next few weeks, Harry's life began to settle into a routine: classes, homework (including helping Neville with Potions), Quidditch practice, and part of the weekends learning about Healing Potions from his father.

He was beginning to look forward to visiting the dungeons on weekends.  Part of it was the satisfaction of seeing the side of Snape that very few others were permitted to view.  Snape still bullied Harry relentlessly in class, of course, but Harry almost began to enjoy the elaborate game of coming up with new public displays of their mutual loathing.  

In the privacy of his own chambers, Snape was…well, one couldn't call him a completely different person.  The man would always be sharp-tongued, could be bitingly sarcastic, and definitely had a temper.  But he also had a quirky sense of humour, was a skilled chess player, was extremely perceptive (years of being a spy does that to a person), and turned out to be a surprisingly good tutor.  Harry's knowledge of Healing Potions progressed quickly.  

As the boy spent more time in their company, he began to appreciate Abraxus' sage bits of advice and even become somewhat fond of Salazar's snippiness.  Abraxus constantly egged Severus on to ensure that Harry was eating properly, so that father and son usually ended up eating lunch together on Saturdays whilst the bat supervised Harry's eating.  The younger wizard was definitely going through a growth spurt.  Dudley's old clothes, although still baggy, no longer had to be rolled up at the cuffs quite so much.  Harry was also going to need to get some new shoes before too long, as his current ones were rapidly becoming too small.  Unused to his taller frame, the boy frequently found himself tripping over his feet.  Thankfully, this sort of clumsiness did not extend to his flying.  

Salazar, for one, found it highly enjoyable to tease Harry about his lack of coordination and had taken to nicknaming the boy "Sir Trips-a-Lot."  Severus thought this was hilarious.  Harry didn't.

"Come on, 'Sir-Trips-a-Lot?'" Harry protested one day to his father.

"It suits you, at least while you're still growing so much," Severus replied, grinning.

"Sounds like a nickname for a drug addict, not someone who's clumsy," grumbled Harry.

"That's the beauty of it," chuckled Severus.  "Salazar didn't realise that when he came up with it…he's too ancient to have understood the reference…"

"I heard that!" called Salazar from his portrait.

*          *          *

[A/N]: Yes, I know that reference to Hermione being busy with prefect duties may seem sudden.  But my reasoning is that, as this story began on the first day of classes, our trio would already have had time to catch up with each other and would therefore know that Hermione had been made a prefect.  I also decided that Hermione would be the only Gryffindor fifth year prefect for the following reasons: 

1.  Hogwarts is really a small school (only about forty students in each year) and can only have so many prefects.

2.  I couldn't see any of the Gryffindor boys besides Ron or Harry becoming prefects, and those two get into too much mischief to have a clean record.  Besides, they're already on the Quidditch team!

3.  Too many fics have either Harry or Ron or both become prefects.  I'd like to try and be different.


	19. Weasley vs Snape

[A/N]: Thanks and hugs to all those who reviewed last chapter: **xikum**, **white owl, ****Calani, **Lokia**, ****Kitala, ****Lillie, **jstarz927**, ****Gusha, ****Saavik, **Insane Pineapple from Naboo**, **kitty**, ****deaths mistress, ****Xirleb70, and **Charma1219**.**

**Gusha**: Your review was the inspiration for much of the content in this chapter.  Thanks for taking the time to leave a review; I really appreciate it.

**Jstarz927**: Insecurity in ickle Harrykins's subconscious?  But of course, my friend!  Trust you to pick up on that!

**Insane Pineapple from Naboo**:  Love your penname, by the way.  No, Harry and Sev don't seem to like each other much…for now, anyways.  It's going to take some time for those two to overcome their differences before they can get around to feeling more comfortable around each other.

**xikum**: Very perceptive review!  We'll see about the Parseltongue.

**Lillie**: Romance…there might be some, but it definitely won't be central to the plot.  Glad to hear you like the story!

Chapter 19: Weasley vs. Snape

One evening after dinner, Harry, Ron, and Hermione did not return to the Gryffindor Common Room or go to the library as usual.  Instead, they were going to see for themselves the Weasley twins' workplace- a supposedly unused dungeon room where the two pranksters invented new items for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.  As five people walking together was more conspicuous than a smaller group, the quintet split up.  Fred, Ron, and Hermione all left the Great Hall together.  Harry and George remained behind, giving the other three several minutes' head start before making their own exit. 

Harry trailed behind the redhead as they traversed the labyrinthine corridors of the dungeons, taking a bewildering number of turns along the way.  The dark-haired wizard couldn't help but wonder how the two pranksters had found wherever their workplace was, but he reckoned that, with the exception of Dumbledore, the twins probably knew their way around the castle far, far better than anyone else did.  

After following yet another twist of the corridor, Harry and George halted in front of a sturdy door.  Fred, Ron, or Hermione must have heard footsteps, because almost immediately George's twin poked his head around the door and beckoned them in.

"There you two are!  Get in here, come on."

Harry's first thought was that the twin's workroom was, in its own way, just as impressive as his father's.  Clearly, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes was not just an idle hobby.  There were a couple of cauldrons (some empty, some with interesting but suspicious-looking contents), handmade shelves upon which various supplies and ingredients were kept, and labelled boxes containing finished products.  With a grin, Harry noticed the boxes labelled 'Canary Creams' and a large jar labelled 'Chameleon Spice.'  He also noticed a list tacked to the wall, titled 'Caution: Volatile Combinations.'  The handwriting looked vaguely familiar, but he didn't think it belonged to the twins. 

"This is…amazing," he said honestly.  Fred and George beamed.

"Here, let us show you what we're working on now…"

"This one actually started out as more of an accident than anything else.  We're not sure what we want to use it for yet."

"What is it?" asked Ron.

"It's a colourless, odourless potion that stains your hand red if you touch it.  It usually takes three full days to wear off.  What we're trying to do is find a way to adjust the potion so that it won't affect the person who owns it.  Basically, we only want it to stain _unauthorized_ users."

"You might be able to develop it into an anti-theft potion…" murmured Hermione thoughtfully.  She looked both intrigued and impressed.  The bushy-haired witch's eyes lit up.  "Do you realise how useful this could be?"

George snorted softly.  "Yeah…it'd serve Mum right if she tried to burn our order forms again…"

"No," said Hermione, with a hint of impatience.  "It could be used to protect things…like important documents or objects…and the best part is, you'd be able to trace the thief!"

Hermione's idea caught the twins' interest, and although they decided not to abandon it, they didn't think the potential product could be used for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

"Maybe Professor Snape could help with this," suggested Fred.  "After all, he's given us advice about our projects before."

Ron, Harry, and Hermione stared at him, nonplussed.  George, however, appeared unruffled.

"What?" said George.  "A lot of our work involves potions.  Who else did you think we would ask?"

Ron's face plainly showed that he remained unconvinced.  

"He just doesn't seem the sort who'd be willing to help you…"

Fred snickered.  "He wasn't too keen at first, but he knew we were going to keep experimenting with potions no matter what.  We kept pestering him with our ideas, and I think he eventually got interested, despite himself."

"Of course, he said he would only help us because he didn't want a pair of dunderheads like us blowing ourselves up," added George wryly.

"Too right," said a familiar, sarcastic voice from the doorway.

"Hello, Professor," said George calmly.

"Mr. Weasley," replied Snape evenly.   

Ron gaped at the professor.

"Kindly close your mouth, Weasley," growled the Potions Master.  "I have no desire to see you appear any more idiotic than usual."

With a glare, Ron's jaw snapped shut.

"Dare I ask what mischief you lot are up to this time?"

If he hadn't already gotten to know the man a bit better, Harry would have failed to recognise the teasing lilt in his father's voice.  By the expressions on their faces, however, Ron and Hermione clearly believed that Snape was leading up to deducting house points or assigning detention.  In contrast, the twins appeared unconcerned.

"It's this potion here, Professor," said Fred, taking on a crisp, businesslike tone.  He indicated the cauldron they had been discussing previously, proceeding to explain the properties of the potion it contained.  Severus listened attentively, only interrupting to clarify a few points here and there.

"Miss Granger is correct," the professor said once Fred had finished speaking.  "This could be quite useful."

Hermione brightened in surprised pleasure.  Although her work in his class was always exceptional, Snape had never complimented her before, unless one counted calling her an insufferable know-it-all.

"The way I see it," Snape continued, "there are two things you can try with this potion: you can continue experimenting with ingredients, or you can research charms that could be combined with it.  I would personally experiment with the ingredients, but I'm obviously biased towards my own field of work."

Harry kept quiet, but he was secretly hoping his father would agree to take on this little extra project.  Hermione's idea was really worth developing.

"We've _been_ experimenting with ingredients…" moaned Fred theatrically.

"It's true, Professor, we're completely out of ideas.  Won't you please, _please see what you can do with it?  Besides, this sort of thing is more in your line of work, anyway.  We really just deal with practical jokes," said George._

Severus tried to look stern, but Harry could tell his father's resolution was wavering.  The Potions Master had an insatiable thirst for experimentation, a fact silently testified to by the various projects in progress inside the potions workroom.

"Oh, no you don't…you two started this project, and you can finish it yourselves.  The pair of you are sorely mistaken if you think I'm going to do your work for you."

"You know you want to," grinned Fred cheekily.

Severus raised an eyebrow, but he couldn't completely keep the amusement he felt from showing on his face.

"Impudent brat," he growled, although the timbre of his voice was devoid of malice.

The twins only grinned broadly.

"All right, all right, I'll see what I can do."  He turned to Harry as a thought struck him.  "What do you say, Harry?  Want to take a break from Healing Potions to work on this for a bit with me?"

Harry was taken aback.  The last thing he had expected was for his father to include him in this project.  

"You want me to help you?"

Severus' face fell for just an instant, quickly superseded by an expression of indifference.

"I understand if you don't want to…I just thought I'd offer."

"No!  I mean, yes, I'd like to work on the potion with you."

Hermione looked quite pleased at this development.  Ron, for his part, simply looked gobsmacked at witnessing a human side of Snape that he had previously believed the man incapable of possessing.

"I don't believe it!" he burst out.  "This has got to be some sort of elaborate joke.  There's no way you would collaborate with Fred and George on their projects, or tutor Harry on Healing Potions…"

_And there's no way you could ever be a good father to Harry_, the redhead added silently.

Ron had been brassed off at his Potions Master for some time.  The youngest Weasley boy had glowered at the mere mention of Snape for the past several weeks and had sullenly refused to speak in every Potions class unless called upon.  

Hermione glanced anxiously at Ron, as though willing him to temper his words.  Even the easygoing twins were beginning to look uncomfortable.  Harry, for his part, was decidedly uncomfortable, a sick feeling twisting his insides into painful knots.

"And why wouldn't I?  I assure you, Weasley, that this is not 'some sort of elaborate joke,' as you so…_eloquently_…put it.  I have indeed been advising your twin brothers since their fifth year here, and Harry himself has told you that I've been tutoring him on Healing Potions.  You might want to consider how very little you know about me before you start making rash accusations," Snape sneered, dark eyes flashing dangerously.

"I know enough to realise your record's against you!" retorted Ron hotly.  "I have no idea why Dumbledore trusts you, after the things you've done.  For that matter, why should any of us trust you?  Why should _Harry trust you, especially?"_

"_Ron!_" Hermione hissed.  "Ron, shut up, you'll get into trouble…he's a professor; you can't speak to him like that!"

Indeed, Severus looked as though he would gladly throttled Ron.  Despite his vexation, the Potions Master's next words were relatively restrained.

"I don't need to justify myself to you, Weasley.  Suffice it to say that Dumbledore's reasons for trusting me are none of your business.  You'll just have to take my word when I tell you that I have no intention of bringing harm to any student in this school, and certainly not to Harry."

"Harry's got more than enough to deal with as it is…he doesn't need you making life harder for him," muttered Ron fiercely.  His temper seemed to be abating, however.

"Weasley, for what it's worth, I agree with you.  There are a lot of things I wish Harry didn't have to deal with, and I wish there were something I could do to make it easier for him.  In the meantime, however, he needs to be able to rely on the support of friends like you.  I trust he can safely do so?"

"Of course!" replied Ron, affronted that Snape seemed to feel a need to ask the question.

Harry cleared his throat loudly.  "If you've finished discussing me as if I weren't here…" he drawled sardonically.

Ron winced, but didn't refrain from commenting:  "You sound like _him, mate."  He indicated the Snape with a jerk of his head._

Harry raised an eyebrow.  "I wonder why that would be," he said expressionlessly.

The twins snickered, but were instantly silenced by one of the Potions Master's infamous glares.

"What?" queried Harry, green eyes wide in mock innocence.

"That's enough from you, Sir-Trips-a-Lot."

"Dad!" Harry protested at the hated nickname.  "You know I hate being called that!"

"And you know I call you that just to annoy you," smirked Severus, looping an arm about his son's shoulders and tousling the boy's hair with his free hand.  "Besides, I didn't start it; Salazar did."  Harry pretended to be annoyed, batting the offending hand away and automatically attempting to make his hair lie flat.  He made no move to leave the circle of his father's arm, however, relishing the contact.  The Dursleys had never exactly showered Harry with warmth and fondness, so he was perfectly content to soak up every ounce of affection Severus was willing to offer.

*          *          *

It was only later, as he was about to retire to sleep for the night, that the impact of what Harry had said sunk in for Severus.

"He called me 'Dad,'" he whispered, a long-forgotten moisture pricking at his eyes.  The word had been spoken so effortlessly, so naturally, completely unforced.  He wondered if Harry even realised that it was the first time the boy had ever called him that aloud, to his face.  For some reason the word inspired a fierce sense of attachment, pride and protectiveness towards the remarkable young wizard who was his son.  "He called me 'Dad,'" he whispered to himself again.  To his surprise, he found his cheeks were damp with tears, but he was smiling widely.  There was hope for them yet.


	20. A Dream and a Conversation

[A/N]: Whew!  *Slumps beside the computer, gasping for breath as if having just run a marathon.* After finally getting Chapter 19 completed and uploaded, I actually knew how I wanted Chapter 20 to play out.  So, here it is- enjoy!

Chapter 20: A Dream and a Conversation

"_Lumos_!_"_

With those two uttered syllables and a flick of a wand, the interior of a house suddenly acquired a sickly sort of illumination, dim light contrasting eerily with the night shadows.  Several sets of black robes swished, almost inaudibly, as their owners stalked towards a bedroom and its oblivious occupant.  Roughly, the door was thrust open, causing the sandy-haired sleeper within to start awake.  Before the man could fumble for glasses, he felt the cool tip of a wand pressed to his temple, and found his myopic vision focused on a hooded, masked Death Eater.  Two others, similarly cloaked and masked, forcibly pulled him from his bed.  Gambling, the man made a bold attempt to go for his own wand, but was halted by a rapid kick to the gut and a curt "_Petrificus Totalus."  Instantly his arms snapped to his sides, legs locked together, and his entire body fell stiffly to the floor._

"Not a wise idea, my friend.  If you attempt such a move again, it will mean Cruciatus for you.  Now, I'm going to remove the Body Bind, and you are going to give us the information we need.  I suggest you cooperate.  My associate here considers himself something of an artist when it comes to extracting information from unwilling informants…I'm certain he'd greatly enjoy practising some of his more…_creative…techniques on you."_

The spell was removed, and the victim sat up with a grimace at the pain in his abdomen.  In the manner of a caged and desperate animal, he warily eyed his assailants as best he could without glasses.

"Go to hell," he spat.

The ringleader declined to rise to the bait, instead only tutting condescendingly.  

"Just because you're an Unspeakable, Rowlands, doesn't mean you should forget your manners.  I believe we'll have to give you a little reminder…_Crucio_!"

Under the strain of the curse, the sandy-haired man curled up into foetal position on the floor, writhing in agony.

"Now, let us begin…"

*          *          *

 Miles away, Harry Potter awoke with a gasp, sitting up straight in bed.  Feeling suddenly suffocated by the bedclothes, he kicked them away and drew his legs to his chest.  Trembling slightly, he folded his body into a compact position, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees.  That hadn't been a nightmare; it had been a vision of a scene that had just occurred.  

Harry shivered as he considered the significance of what he had seen.  The Death Eaters were active again.  For the past several months they had done no more than hold occasional meetings.  Now, clearly, they had become more confident- or else Voldemort had grown tired of waiting.  Equally troubling was the fact that Harry had woken up before he could find out what information they had been after.  Even so, he was guiltily thankful that he had woken up when he had; his imagination was doing more than enough to fill in the details he had missed.  He had a sick, sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach that the scene had ended with the sandy-haired man's death and the Death Eaters casting the Dark Mark over the house.  One thing the young wizard was certain of, however, was that his father needed to know what had happened.  

Moving softly, Harry slid out of bed and grabbed his wand, then took out his invisibility cloak.  Creeping down the stairs, he padded through the common room and slipped past the portrait of the Fat Lady (who grumbled about being awoken in the middle of the night).  A part of Harry berated himself for running to his father for comfort like a small child after having had a bad dream.  Another part of him, however, reasoned that he had promised Severus he would tell him immediately after having any vision.

"_Basilisk_."

Wordlessly (for once), Salazar's portrait opened to admit him into Severus' chambers.  Taking off the invisibility cloak, Harry walked towards his father's bedroom.  Upon reaching the door, he hesitated, then decided to knock.  Within seconds, the door swung open, and he found himself face to face with his father.

"Harry?  What's happened?"

Severus' dark eyes were alert and full of concern.

"I…er…I had a vision, and I…well- I thought you ought to know," said Harry quickly.

Severus' face grew grim, and he ushered his son into the main room.  Indicating that Harry should sit on the sofa, Severus pulled up a chair and seated himself directly across from the younger wizard.

"Tell me about it," said the Potions Master quietly.

Harry recounted what he had seen, trying to recall every last detail.  When he finished, Severus exhaled worriedly.

"This is not a good sign…I should have known about this beforehand."

"What do you mean?" 

Severus scrutinized his son, considering how to answer.

"This is the sort of thing I'm supposed to find out about at Death Eater meetings.  The Dark Lord normally assigns followers to go on a raid in the presence of the full company of Death Eaters.  Being entrusted with a mission is a reward for loyal and trusted followers.  If, however, the mission fails, the followers are later punished and made an example of in front of the other Death Eaters.  The fact that I was unaware of this mission indicates that the Dark Lord does not fully trust His followers; He knows someone is leaking information."

"Do you think he knows it's you?" asked Harry bluntly, worry beginning to gnaw at him.  If anyone had told him just two months ago that he would be concerned for Snape, Harry would have laughed in that person's face.  Now, however, laughter was the farthest thing from his mind.  

Severus shook his head.  "I don't know, I honestly don't know."

"If He calls you again…I don't think you should go."  Harry wanted to say, "I don't want you to go," but he bit the words off.  Instead he continued, "What if this means He already knows you're a spy, and He decides to kill you?  It's just not safe anymore- not that it ever was in the first place.  What I'm trying to say is that it's even more dangerous now."

"It's a risk I have to take," Severus replied.  "Our side needs information."

"Can't the Ministry send someone else?  Why does it have to be you?"  Harry knew the question made him sound like a small, whining child, but at the moment, he didn't care.

"I think you already know the answers to those questions, Harry."  Severus' dark eyes were unexpectedly gentle.

"So you're just going to allow the Ministry to keep putting you in unnecessary danger?  You already spied in the last war, you shouldn't have to do it again, it's not _fair_..."  Harry's voice was increasing in pitch.

"Harry, look at me," his father said in a low, firm voice.  With difficulty, Harry met his father's gaze.  "Why do you think Black goes on missions for Dumbledore?  As a fugitive, his work is made even more difficult.  Or consider Arthur Weasley.  Despite having a large family to support, he risks his job at the Ministry _and_ attracting Voldemort's attention by collaborating with Dumbledore."

Harry looked at the floor.  "But they have a _choice," he whispered.  "You don't."_

"Even if I did, I'd still spy."

"I know," said Harry quietly.  "I just wish you didn't have to."

Severus was moved, though he tried to hide it.

"I think it's time you went back to sleep, young man.  It's a school night, and you need to be awake for classes tomorrow," said the Potions Master gruffly.  He stood and replaced the chair he had been using to its previous location.

Harry's green eyes looked positively impish as he replied, "So do you."  Then he yawned.  "Mmm.  S'pose you're right."  

Stretching, the teenager stood up, preparing to return to his dorm.  As a result of his recent growth spurt, his blue-and-white striped pyjamas were decidedly too short, the cuffs leaving several inches of ankle and wrist bare.  He was startled to notice that he no longer had to look up as much to meet Severus' eyes; he was probably only about half a head shorter than his father now.

"Off to bed with you," rumbled his father's deep baritone voice.  

Feeling sleepy, Harry nodded in response.  "I'm-" he was interrupted by another yawn, "-going, I'm going."

Severus walked him to the portrait hole.  Just before Salazar swung aside to let Harry through, Severus placed a hand on his son's shoulder.

"Before you leave, there's something I wanted to ask you," he said, looking unaccustomedly shy.

Harry tensed.

"And what might that be?"

"The other day- did you mean to call me Dad?"

The tenseness seeped out of Harry's thin body, to be replaced by astonishment.

"I did call you Dad, didn't I?" he said quietly, sounding amazed.  "I suppose I'd been calling you 'Dad' in my head long enough that it just slipped out."  His eyebrows knit together as he suddenly looked uncertain.  "You're not angry about it, are you?"

"No- not at all!" responded Severus quickly.  "I…that is to say, I'm very happy you did."

"Me too."  Harry flashed his father a grin.  "G'night…Dad."

"Sleep well, Harry," replied the Potions Master, smiling himself.

.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[A/N]: Thanks to reviewers: **Dark-One Shadowphyre, ****enahma (twice!), ****xikum, **t.a.g**, ****reanne080, ****Sela, **Charma1219**, ****IshratOrc, ****stayblue, **Xirleb70**, ****Saavik, and ****Harmoni.**


	21. The Godfather

[A/N]: Hugs and thanks to all you reviewers: **Athenakitty, ****xikum, **sk8reagle**, ****aims80, ****Charma1219, **Dark-One Shadowphyre**, **Sela**, ****Moldanubikum, ****kitala, **stayblue**, ****Kateri, ****RJ McG, **jasmin flower**, ****Xirleb70, ****HyperCaz, **enahma**, ****Vita brevis, ****BlackHedwig22, **Ms. Issues**, **Lokia**, ****Samantha, **Gusha**, ****Saavik, ****alamarang, and **Jeanne**!  This chapter, the angst gets turned up a notch… **

Chapter 21: The Godfather

Amidst dozens of conversations buzzing like that of a fly's movement, the crowd dispersed from the stands, talking animatedly about the smashing Quidittch match Gryffindor had just won against Ravenclaw.  It had been a very competitive game.  The Ravenclaw team had some skilled players (particularly the Seeker, Cho Chang), but they were no match for the combined force of this year's Gryffindor team.

For the first time ever, Severus found himself pleased at a Gryffindor victory.  He had watched his son keenly from the moment the players had entered the pitch.  Ever since Harry's first year, Severus had attended any game in which Harry played, in the hopes of preventing any foul play against the boy.  Up till now he had done so solely out of a feeling of obligation to James and Lily.  Now, Severus' reasons for attending were changed.  He still wanted to keep an eye on Harry, but if his son's team won in the meantime, Severus secretly didn't begrudge Gryffindor the victory.  Not that he'd ever admit it…

He repressed a smile as he walked back to the castle, intending to head towards the dungeons.  The anti-theft potion was coming along nicely, and the Potions Master had a few more ideas he was itching to try out.  Upon entering the castle, he caught a glimpse of the shabby back of Lupin's robes, heading in the direction of the Headmaster's office.   _Ah, that reminds me…time to start brewing more Wolfsbane potion soon._

*          *          *

Only a few hours later, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were all called to Dumbledore's office.  When they got there, they found a shaken-looking Remus Lupin.  No, "shaken" was an understatement.  The werewolf looked numb, as though he had just been dealt a severe emotional blow.  

"What's happened?" asked Hermione, pushing a strand of hair out of her face.

"I think it would be best if you all sat down."  Dumbledore, at that moment, looked every bit of his hundred-odd years.  "Sirius has been killed," said the Headmaster gently.  "We don't know the exact details, but it is certain Voldemort is responsible."  The old wizard's expression hardened, the customary twinkle in the bright blue eyes replaced by sadness and anger.  

Ron paled, Hermione's eyes filled with tears, and Lupin looked more tired than ever, grief etched into every line of the werewolf's face.  Harry sat there frozen, unable to fathom that his godfather was, in fact, dead.  This wasn't supposed to happen.  Sirius wasn't supposed to be killed.  He was supposed to have continued working for Dumbledore, to capture Wormtail and prove his innocence…

Dumbledore was speaking again, explaining how Lupin had gone to a rendezvous point last night, expecting to meet up with Sirius, only to discover his friend's body instead.  Harry's mind had a hard time registering what the aged Headmaster was saying, there was a rushing sound in his ears, and his body felt like gelatin.  At that precise moment, Harry wished for nothing more than to slip into temporary oblivion with a Dreamless Sleep potion, so that he simply wouldn't have to think or accept that he had lost one more of his few remaining family members.   

*          *          *

Harry made his way dazedly towards the dungeons, guided gently by Dumbledore's hand on his shoulder.

"_Basilisk_," said Harry dully.  Salazar's portrait opened to admit them into Severus' chambers.

Sitting woodenly on the sofa, Harry was dimly aware of Dumbledore calling the Potions Master from the workroom.  Severus appeared, shirtsleeves rolled up and wiping his hands with a rag, having just come from brewing a potion.  Harry only caught a few snatches of what Dumbledore was saying as the Headmaster explained what had happened to his father: "Sirius Black…Forbidden Forest…Voldemort…thought it would be best if Harry stayed with you for a little while.  He has my permission to spend the night here if he needs to."

"Of course," said Severus.  The Potions Master had paled at the Headmaster's news, shooting a concerned look at his son.

The next thing Harry knew, Dumbledore had gone, and his father was sitting beside him on the sofa.

"Harry…"

Wordlessly, Harry latched on to him tightly, burying his face in his father's chest and shuddering with grief that was rapidly becoming less and less controlled.  It had been a long, long time since Severus had been embraced or embraced anyone in return, but, for the first time since they had discovered their relationship, he found himself instinctively wrapping his arms around his son, one arm protectively encircling the boy's trembling shoulders, the other stroking the dark head of hair.  

Harry had not cried since he was a small boy, having quickly learned that doing so only encouraged Dudley to pick on him even more.  He had never known what it was to have a parent hold you as you wept, whispering soothing nonsense until you calmed down and cried yourself into exhaustion.  Mrs. Weasley often embraced him, indeed she thought of Harry as one of her own boys.  But, wonderful as she was, she simply wasn't Harry's parent.  Sirius had been the first real parental figure Harry had ever had.  

For what seemed like an interminable amount of time, Harry wept.  He cried himself out, until his sobs finally died into hiccups and he couldn't have wailed any more if he'd tried.  Drawing several shuddery breaths, he withdrew from his father's embrace and swiped at his still-stinging eyes with the back of his hand.  Bonelessly, he leaned back against the couch, eyes closed.  He felt Severus smooth his hair back and barely heard the man's deep voice say softly, "I'll be right back, Harry.  I'm just going to get you a Dreamless Sleep potion."

Araxtus, who had remained silently watchful the entire time, flew over and landed on the arm of the sofa.  He gently bumped his head against Harry's cheek before taking flight again to hang upside down from the ceiling.  When Severus returned a few moments later, Harry was already half-asleep.  His father gave him a gentle shake, thinking the boy might not be awake.

"Here," said the Potions Master, handing him a small bottle.  "Drink the whole thing, now.  It should make you sleep till morning."

Harry downed the purple potion in one go.  He immediately felt sleepier than he already was.  Stretching out on the sofa, he felt his father slip a pillow under his head, then slide his shoes off of his feet.  The welcome weight of a blanket was draped over him, and just before he slipped off into unconsciousness, he heard his father whisper, "Give a shout if you need anything.  I'll be right here."

*          *          *

Harry spent most of the next day in the Potions workroom with his father, who sensed that the boy needed a distraction.  The two of them tinkered with the anti-theft potion for several hours, until Araxtus hissed from the doorway that they needed to take a break.

"It'sss time you ssstopped for lunch…"

"I'm not hungry," said Harry, as he cleared away the dittany.  It was the first time he had spoken all day.

Severus raised an eyebrow at his son.  Harry's appetite over the last few months had usually been voracious as a result of his growth spurt.

"Then sit with me."

Harry shrugged, but followed his father out of the workroom anyway.  As he had at breakfast that morning, the teenaged wizard picked at the food in front of him, eating very little and only managing half of his goblet of pumpkin juice.  Severus let Harry's behavior slide, knowing his son was grieving.

The Headmaster stopped by after lunch to inform them that it was time for Harry to return to the Gryffindor common room.  Harry nodded once, silently, and stood to follow Dumbledore out of Severus' chambers.  Before he left, his father hugged him tightly and whispered, "If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me."

Swallowing, Harry replied, "Thanks, Dad."

*          *          *

The worst part, Harry reflected, was that he was going to have to act, once again, as if nothing had happened.  Luckily the Weasleys, who were in on the fact that Sirius had been innocent, would understand and be able to help deflect attention away from any outward signs of grief Harry might display.  And of course Professor Lupin, who was in a similar situation, would understand.  The werewolf had been one of Sirius' best friends.  He too, would be grieving.  

Harry silently raged that his godfather had never had the chance to prove his innocence.  If the Daily Prophet reported his death, it would most likely be in terms of rejoicing that the "dangerous escaped convict" was no longer a threat to wizarding and muggle society.  _Sirius deserves so much better than that, he thought.  _If only Pettigrew hadn't escaped that night, Sirius would've been a free man_.  _

When Harry had returned to the common room, he let Ron talk him into playing a game of wizard's chess.  Ron beat him spectacularly, of course, but Harry didn't mind.  He was content to hear Ron chatter nonstop about yesterday's Quidittch match in an effort to compensate for his own silence.  Hermione, reading nearby, looked up from her book occasionally to watch the chess game and check on Harry.  The dark haired boy was grateful for his friends' company, even more so for the fact that they didn't press him to talk.

Fred and George were busy showing off Chameleon Spice to a group of mischievous-looking second years.  Every now and then, they glanced over to see if their younger brother's best friend was all right.  Harry assumed Ron or Hermione must've told the twins about Sirius' death.  He hoped so, because he really didn't want to tell them himself; the thought was enough to make him feel physically sick.  Having to actually talk about it would make his godfather's absence to real than he was willing to admit.  

As Dennis Creevey's hair suddenly turned an electric green colour, Harry managed a halfhearted smile whilst the other students were snickering or laughing uproariously at the effects of the twins' invention.

"Wicked!" piped up one of the younger students.  "Can I have some?"

Excusing himself, Harry mumbled something about deciding to skip dinner and go to bed early because he was tired.

"D'you want us to bring you anything to eat?" inquired Ron.

"No, I think I'll just go to sleep…"

"_You_, skip a meal?" questioned Hermione.  "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm really tired."

"Okay, then.  Rest up.  We'll see you in the morning."

"Yeah, take care of yourself, mate."

Harry trudged up the stairwell to the fifth year boys' dorm.  Instead of going immediately to sleep, he first dug around in his trunk until he found his photo album.  Not bothering to undress, the boy stretched out on his bed, photo album open before him.  He spent a long time looking at the picture of Sirius at his mum and James' wedding before sleep finally claimed him.


	22. A Lot to Answer For

[A/N]: Wow, so many reviews!  You know I appreciate it.  Thanks, people!  The list of last chapter's reviewers: **Mikee**, **stayblue**, **jasmin flower**, **Charma1219**, **Stoney Emerys**, **myrhfire**, **litine**, **KittyKat589**, **momma-dar**, **xikum**, **Ms. Issues**, **Lokia**, **S.G.**, **Dragona** (three times!), **Iniysa**, **Erin**, **Futon**, **Saavik**, **Jay**, **Innocent Dreamer**, **Vivian Marie**, **Dark-One Shadowphyre**, **jstarz927**, **angelluv666**, **shdurrani**,** nekohebi**, **Lady Liza Sparrow of Gondor**, **Lynx**, **psychohermione**, **MarsMoonStar**, **EriEka127**, **athenakitty**, **case**, **Adenara**** Yatman**, **yumi-no-baka**, **mooneyfanatic02**, and **star06**. 

Chapter 22: A Lot to Answer For

Over breakfast that Monday morning, Professor McGonagall rose from her seat at the Head Table, tapping her goblet with her fork.

"May I have your attention, please," the Deputy Headmistress said.  Several hundred pairs of eyes turned to focus on her.  "Professor Lupin has become unexpectedly indisposed, and we have been unable to find a substitute teacher on such short notice.  Therefore, all Defence Against the Dark Arts classes have been cancelled for today."

Some of the Slytherins cheered at this announcement, but there was a murmur of concern or disappointment from most of the other students, who were fond of the professor despite his lycanthropy.

"D'you…do you think this has to do with his being a- being a _werewolf_?" whispered a first year girl timidly, tapping Hermione's elbow.  

"Yes, I would expect so," the Gryffindor prefect replied glibly.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione all knew that the Lupin was not due to transform for another few days.  Ron narrowed his eyes at the bushy-haired girl, but wisely refrained from saying anything, reckoning that Hermione had her reasons.

"Harry…" began Hermione hesitantly as soon as the three friends had left the Great Hall, "Maybe…maybe you should try and visit Professor Lupin today during the time we would normally have Defence."

Harry turned his head to look at her, startled out of the introspection he had been engaged in for the last twenty-four hours.

"Whatever for?  He probably wants to be alone right now," he bit out waspishly.

"He might, but perhaps it would help if the two of you were to spend a little time together.  Snuffles was important to both of you, after all."

Harry glared at her full force, looking eerily like Snape for a moment even with the Mirror Charm in effect.

"So we can wallow in our grief together?  I don't bloody well think so.  That's the last thing either of us needs!"

"Don't be a prat, Harry," snapped Ron.  "Yes, you're grieving, and Merlin knows you've had a horrible year so far, but that doesn't mean you can treat your friends like dirt.  Hermione's only got your best interests in mind.  The least you can do is consider her idea.  I personally think it's a good one.  

"You _need_ to talk to someone about what's happened, 'cause it'll just be more painful if you bottle it up inside or try to deal with it yourself.  We Weasleys, we tend to shout it out at each other in one go when we're angry or upset.  But you, Harry, you usually keep whatever's bothering you to yourself, until you can't take it any more and lose control.  You've got lots of people who care about you that you can talk to.  _Please_, and I'm asking you as your best friend, _don't_ try and deal with Snuffle's death on your own." 

Harry stared at his redheaded friend in amazement.  When had Ron grown up so much?  The dark-haired boy suddenly felt both humbled and childish in comparison.

"Okay," he said.  "I'll consider it.  And I'm sorry I snapped at you, 'mione.  The two of you have been great.  I just want you to know that."

"It's all right, Harry," smiled Hermione kindly, patting his arm.  "You didn't have to apologise."  

"Yes, I did," replied Harry simply.

So it was that later that day found Harry seeking out Professor Lupin in the latter's office.  The door to the office was closed, and Harry reckoned that Lupin was probably in his quarters.  The teenaged wizard nevertheless decided to knock, although he didn't expect a response.  With his knuckles, he rapped twice, listening for any sounds of movement from within the office.  There were none.  Although it was probably futile, Harry decided to knock again, and this time he heard Lupin's hoarse voice call, "Come in, Harry."

Harry opened the door and walked inside into the comforting clutter of Lupin's office.  There was a stack of essays on the desk in the process of being marked, which Harry supposed he had interrupted.

"How did you know it was me?" he asked.

"Your scent.  I also heard your footsteps as you approached.  I have a very strong sense of smell and extremely sharp hearing," Lupin explained.  "Some of the few perks of being a werewolf."

"Oh," said Harry.  He studied the man who had been one of Sirius' closest friends.  Lupin appeared to have aged ten years.  The grey in his hair seemed more pronounced, and the lines in his face were etched deeper than ever.  There were also dark, purplish shadows under his eyes.

"Please, take a seat," the professor said, indicating one of the overstuffed chairs.  "I'll make us some tea."

With a grateful nod, Harry sat.  Lupin proceeded to heat the kettle with a tap of his wand.  As his professor poured steaming water into two mugs, Harry couldn't help but notice the palpitations of the man's hands.  Whether this was due to fatigue or stress Harry was uncertain, but he suspected both were partially responsible.

"I think we could both use some extra sugar, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me, how is your extra-credit project with Professor Snape going?  On Healing Potions, isn't it?"

"Oh, it's going all right, I suppose.  Snape's as nasty as ever, of course, but the Healing Potions are really interesting.  Did you know that if ingested in very small doses, hemlock can be a strong pain reliever?  Or when the oil is applied externally, it's good for treating tumours, skin disease, and pains in the joints?  Only problem is, it's terribly poisonous…"

"You're beginning to sound like your friend Miss Granger," commented Lupin, amused.  "Or even, though you probably won't take it as a compliment, Professor Snape when he was a student here."

"Professor _Snape_?" asked Harry, putting on a face of mild disgust.

"Oh yes, he was always one of the top students in our class.  Worked extremely hard at academics, especially Potions, of course.  I think his father put a great deal of pressure on him to perform well, but I also think loved to learn, or at least came to love learning.  He was always doing outside reading."

Harry made a noncommittal noise, but inwardly mused about what his teacher had said.

"I know the Marauders played pranks on him, but did he ever play pranks on you?"

"Oh, goodness, yes.  For every Transfiguration trick James played on Severus, Severus always managed to retaliate with some potion or other.  You know, neither James nor Lily were ever more than average at Potions, so it's rather surprising that you've developed such a gift for them."

Harry shrugged, forcing a would-be cheerful smile.  "Yeah, came as a surprise to me, too, I can tell you."

Harry noticed a copy of Sunday's Daily Prophet on Lupin's desk.  

"Can I have this?" he asked quietly.  "I didn't read it, yesterday."

"Of course," replied Lupin.

On the front page of the newspaper, a minor article's headline pronounced:

**_SIRIUS BLACK FOUND DEAD!_**

Yesterday evening, Unspeakable Dafydd Rowlands discovered the body of convicted mass murderer Sirius Black in Dee Valley, outside Llangollen, Wales.  Black, who escaped Azkaban over a year ago and has been at large ever since, was given a life sentence in 1981.  In a statement given to the Ministry of Magic, Rowlands claims that he and his brother, Rhys, were walking through the woods when they saw an odd shape in a clearing ahead of them.  Upon investigating, they realised that it was none other than the battered corpse of Sirius Black.  

"I almost didn't recognize his face, what with the cuts and bruises and all," commented Rhys Rowlands in an interview.

Coroners judged that death had occurred no more than twenty-four hours prior to discovery.  Major bruising and cuts marred Black's face and torso, and a scan for residual spells revealed that the Cruciatus Curse had been inflicted multiple times.  Cause of death was determined to be the Killing Curse.

The article continued, but Harry barely registered the rest of the words.  Trying to put the description of Sirius' injuries in the back of his mind, the young wizard sought to sift through the information he had just gleaned.  _Rowlands_…could that be the same man Harry had seen in his vision?  Surely it was, how many Unspeakables named Rowlands could there be?         

Harry was uncertain of how to turn the conversation towards what he and Lupin both knew he had come to discuss: Sirius.  As it turned out, he didn't have to; the professor was the one who broached the subject.

"Harry, there are a few things you should be aware of, now that- now that Sirius is gone."  Lupin's golden-brown eyes hinted of wariness, as though the man was unsure of how the boy seated next to him was going to react.

"Like what?"

"For one, I expect that some sort of legal representative will contact you about Sirius' will before too long.  Sirius was the last of the Blacks, you know.  As he had no children of his own, he left his family home and much of his assets to you.

"The goblins at Gringott's will almost certainly contact you as well; they're usually involved in the executing of a will."

Harry blinked rapidly several times to dispel the stinging in his eyes.  "What- what other things were there?"

"As a minor, you aren't going to be able to take possession of the property yet.  Usually, one's parents or guardian hold it in trust until the child comes of age."

Outraged at the thought of the Dursleys having possession of anything that had belonged to his godfather, Harry opened his mouth to object, but Lupin held up a hand.

"_However_," he continued, "Because your relatives are muggles, it's more likely that the bank will hold the property in trust for you until your eighteenth birthday."

"Good," said Harry firmly, eyes narrowed.  "The Dursleys should NOT be involved.  In fact, it's best if they don't even know about it."

Lupin looked slightly taken aback at the force behind Harry's tone.

"Surely they'd respect your wishes in the matter?"

"As if," sneered Harry cynically.  "Professor, the first thing they'd try and do is get an estimate on the property.  The very _next_ thing they'd do, I guarantee you, is sell it to the highest bidder and pocket the money for themselves."

His godfather's best friend shook his head in disbelief.

"Sirius told me Lily's sister was pretty awful, but I didn't think she and her husband could be that rotten."

"You have _no idea," muttered Harry.  Then he changed the subject.  "Do you know how jealous I am that you were able to spend time with Sirius during the summer?"_

Lupin sighed.

"I know he regretted not being able to spend more time with you.  He was so excited about having you stay with him for Christmas."  Lupin chuckled dryly.  "He had already set aside a room for you and started working on it."

Harry swallowed against the lump in his throat, angry at himself for feeling like an emotional basket-case.  _All of this is so unfair_…  

"Merlin, Harry, I'm sorry!  I'm just making it worse, aren't I?" exclaimed Lupin contritely upon seeing Harry's expression.

"It's not fair!" burst out Harry.  "It's like…every time there's a chance of something good happening to me, it gets snatched away!  And it all goes back to Voldemort, doesn't it?" he remarked bitterly.  "First my parents, now Sirius…"

"Oh, I quite agree with you, Harry.  Voldemort has a lot to answer for."  


	23. Owl Post

[A/N]: I'd like to apologise for the long delay in getting this chapter out. I haven't dropped off the face of the earth, I promise! I'd also like to thank everyone for all the reviews. I'm continually astounded and flattered by just how many of you there are: slytherinsela, athenakitty, xSnapeLoverx, Star06, Mikee, Honor, o0-Innocent Dreamer-0o, Iniysa, Madame Moony, Dark-One Shadophyre, yumi-no-baka, Cat15, James-Padfoot, ennui2, Charma1219, Otspock, xikum, Kateri1, flamekitty, enahma, Harmoni, Ezmerelda, Lili, slycat-blaze1, Erisinia Gazelle, Saavik13, Spiffycool, kangaroo, biblios, SlythGrl18, Tirla, Katrina Tonak, Lady Lily3, Skysong1, silverdragonofslytherin, Sabrina451, pixie-chan, Wynjara, PantherGuide, Jordanz, Foolish Misery, ironic-humour, Ms Tom Riddle, Andromeda Snape- Malfoy, E.L.Prongs, ironic-humor, Makalani Astral, kneh13, TeamExtremeGurl, GoddessMoonLady, SailorSakuraChi, Raclswt, lilvietdevilgrl, Drco Malfoy, FriendlessHalf-Elf, iluvwillturner, kimmylookatmoi, Mistress-Genari, karlin88, Astra1, Slytherinheart, leggylover03, DrFraud, Hrei-siesn, Kalystia, Inscribson Mathaeus Riddle, Remo Con, IanaMoon, TheMuse85, and diamond004. To those readers who've been following this story from the beginning, thank you for your ongoing support. To those who are new, welcome aboard!  
  
Chapter 23: Owl Post  
  
Harry received an owl the following day at breakfast, but it wasn't from Gringotts, as Professor Lupin had predicted. Harry's heart leapt in his chest when he saw the folded piece of parchment, complete with an eerily familiar muddy paw print.  
  
Harry (the note read),  
  
Don't believe what the papers have been saying- I am alive and still  
free. Harry, I'm so very sorry for what you must have been going  
through these past few days. I wish I could have contacted you  
sooner, but circumstances beyond my control prevented me from doing  
so. I need to meet with you face-to-face, and soon. Tomorrow's a  
Hogsmeade visit, I believe- can you meet me in the cave at two  
o'clock? I'd really appreciate it if you could bring some food as  
well, I haven't had a square meal in days. Take care, Harry.  
  
-Snuffles  
  
Harry concentrated on breathing normally. As nonchalantly as possible and with minimal fumbling from his slightly trembling hands, the parchment was re-folded and placed securely within the confines of his book bag.  
  
Remus said he had seen Sirius' corpse with his own eyes...but how many people knew Sirius was an Animagus, capable of turning into a huge, Grim-like black dog at will? There was no way of knowing whether or not Peter Pettigrew had divulged that secret to Voldemort and the Death Eaters- which meant that meeting with Sirius could be a trap. He signed it Snuffles, though...the only other people who know that nickname are Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore.  
  
Mind whirling, Harry began formulating a plan.  
  
"Are you sure you don't want to come with me and Hermione, Harry? I know you mentioned needing to stop by Gladrags and the apothecary," said Ron.  
  
Harry shook his head and reiterated the excuse he had decided upon before falling asleep the night before.  
  
"No, I really don't feel up to it...I just want to have a lie-in today. I couldn't sleep at all last night. You go on, have fun."  
  
"Well, if you're sure..." Ron frowned, looking indecisive.  
  
"Go!" Harry growled, playfully swatting his redheaded friend with his pillow. "Let me sleep in peace."  
  
Harry gave his friends a good hour's head start before slipping out of bed and getting dressed. Stuffing his invisibility cloak and the Marauder's Map into his jumper, he made his way down to the kitchens.  
  
"Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is so glad you is coming to visit the kitchens!" The little house-elf was practically bouncing up and down in excitement.  
  
"How are you, Dobby?" Harry inquired politely.  
  
"Great Harry Potter is so kind to ask after Dobby! Dobby is doing well." In a slightly lower and less squeaky voice, the elf confided: "I is speaking to Headmaster Dumbledore about Winky, she is now an official Hogwarts elf, not a free elf. This is making her much happier- she is no longer drinking so much Butterbeer."  
  
"That's good," replied Harry. "Listen, Dobby, could you do something for me?"  
  
"Harry Potter has only to ask!" Dobby replied, growing excited.  
  
"I need you to make me up a parcel of food, sort of like a picnic..."  
  
"Dissendium!"  
  
Clad in his invisibility cloak, with a bundle under his left arm and his wand in his right, Harry tapped the statue of the hump-backed witch. In a few short moments, the corridor was empty and Harry was on his way to Honeydukes' cellar in Hogsmeade.  
  
Once in the village, Harry took great care to avoid bumping into people in the sweet shop or the streets. On the outskirts of the village, he passed the Shrieking Shack and began his ascent up the hill that led to Sirius' hideout. The path was steep, but rather than racing up the hill, huffing and puffing, he took slower, longer strides and deep breaths. If this meeting was a trap, he was hardly going to advertise his early arrival if he could at all help it.  
  
The mouth of the cave was now in sight. Harry slowly circled it, looking for anything suspicious.  
  
He saw several different tracks: hooves (Buckbeak the hippogriff, probably), large dog prints, and shoes. So far, so good, Harry thought. Then he looked at the human footprints more closely. Why would there be so many different types of boot prints here? Sirius should be the only person around, except for me.  
  
Backing off noiselessly, the teen considered his options. It didn't take him long to reach a decision. Mind made up, Harry drew his wand and edged his way into the cave with minimal rustling.  
  
A split second later, however, he found himself scrambling out of the cave and back into the sunlight. In a flurry of hooves, wings, claws, and beak, the hippogriff known as Buckbeak had lunged forward aggressively, sensing an intruder. Swearing under his breath, Harry gave up all attempts at hiding his presence.  
  
Throwing off the invisibility cloak, the raven-haired youth warily moved towards the beast, staring unblinkingly into its orange eyes and bowing. Placated, the hippogriff returned the bow and allowed Harry to pat his beak.  
  
"Can I go in the cave now, please?" Harry asked quietly. Seeming to understand, Buckbeak stepped aside and allowed the young wizard to pass.  
  
Sirius was half-crouched in the back of the cave, wand drawn and poised to attack. He looked a mess: his robes sported several tears; his hair was matted, filthy, and had clearly been chopped off unevenly in places; and dried blood coated his bony fingers. Upon recognising Harry, however, Sirius Black's facial features relaxed into an expression of relief and pleasure.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
Without a second thought, Harry rushed into his godfather's outstretched arms and clung to him fiercely. At the man's muffled exclamation of pain, however, he drew back.  
  
"Oof! Easy on the ribs, there, Harry," Black cautioned him. "They're still a bit sore. You've grown so tall since I last saw you! What've they been feeding you at Hogwarts, eh?"  
  
Shaking, but still grinning madly, Harry poked a finger in the middle of Sirius' chest mock-accusingly.  
  
"What happened to you? We all thought you were dead, Remus said he saw your body..."  
  
"Feed me and I'll tell you as I eat. You remembered to bring food, I hope?"  
  
Harry handed him the packet of food in answer.  
  
"Ah!" said the ragged wizard, brightening further. Settling himself cross- legged on the floor of the cave, he tore into a sandwich ravenously. Harry's stomach ached in sympathy upon observing the speed at which the sandwich disappeared. How long had it been since Sirius had last eaten?  
  
Crunching on an apple now, Sirius began to speak:  
  
"Two weeks ago today I was in Wales, taking care of some business for Dumbledore. I was supposed to meet up with one David Rowlands, a Welsh fellow who works as an Unspeakable. More importantly, he is also- was also- an...associate...of Dumbledore's."  
  
He paused to nibble away at the apple core.  
  
"Well, anyway, the meeting didn't go as planned. Rowlands showed up, but he looked odd, sort of glassy-eyed and rather quiet. Turns out someone had cast the Imperius Curse on him, because before I even had a chance to say anything, he hit me with a Stupefy. The next thing I know, Rowlands and I are tied up in somebody's hut in the Welsh forest, guarded by four Death Eaters.  
  
I'll spare you the details, but suffice to say they gave Rowlands a dose of Polyjuice potion with my hair in it and took him away. I only found out what happened to him later- you've read the papers, I assume?"  
  
When Harry nodded in the affirmative, Sirius continued.  
  
"I can't tell you much more without breaking some oaths of secrecy, but I can tell you that Buckbeak- Rowlands had been taking care of him for me- anyhow, Buckbeak somehow managed to find me. The Death Eater who was guarding me wasn't all that bright, you see. He didn't know that hippogriffs don't take well to rudeness or towards anyone hurting a wizard they've bonded with...you get the picture, I'm sure. Idiot had my wand, too, so it was a fairly simple matter to retrieve it and hustle back to England."  
  
Throughout his narrative, Sirius had kept up a lighthearted tone, but Harry could see the strain in the older wizard's eyes. The blue orbs looked flat and distant, as they had two years ago when Sirius had just escaped from Azkaban.  
  
A twig suddenly snapped outside, and Sirius started to his feet, wand at the ready.  
  
"What is it-" Harry began to ask. But Sirius pushed Harry directly behind him, so that the man's body was between Harry and anyone who might be entering the cave.  
  
In a heartbeat, the cave became a confusing blur of black robes, swearing, and variously-coloured flashes of light as jinxes, hexes, and curses were cast every which direction. The intruder- no, intruders, there were three of them- were concealed by the same sort of silvery masks Harry had seen the Death Eaters wear when Voldemort had been resurrected.  
  
Sirius took a curse in the stomach, and bent over double in pain. Furious, Harry began to storm forward, ready to attack, but Sirius stretched out an arm, holding him back. Harry vaguely registered a burning sensation on his shoulder, when-  
  
"STUPEFY! PETRIFICUS TOTALIS!" a new voice roared out from the mouth of the cave.  
  
It was Professor Lupin, radiating an animalistic fury such as Harry had never before seen in the normally quiet man. The werewolf cast another hex before barking:  
  
"Run, Harry! Get out of here-"  
  
A flash of purple light whizzed by, hitting Lupin squarely in the chest. He stumbled backwards with an inarticulate cry.  
  
"IMPEDIMENTA! STUPEFY! PETRIFICUS TOTALIS!" Harry bellowed in quick succession, directing the spells towards the sole remaining Death Eater. The young wizard was trembling, fear and anger striving for dominance within him.  
  
Face tight with pain, Lupin gritted out, "Cover Sirius with that blasted invisibility cloak. Make sure you're holding on to him, then grab hold of this."  
  
With fumbling hands, Harry quickly helped Sirius cover himself with the cloak, then reached out to touch the handkerchief that lay crumpled in Lupin's palm. Immediately, he felt a tugging sensation behind his navel, and felt the Portkey whisk them away from the cave.  
  
[A/N]: The next chapter is already written, it just needs a little polishing. Believe me when I say you won't have to wait nearly as long for Chapter 24. In the meantime, please review Chapter 23! Thanks again to all you reviewers. 


	24. Grims, Werewolves, and Bats Oh, my!

[A/N]: Told you I'd be back again soon! Thanks again to all you reviewers- you guys rock! Now, on to Chapter 24…

Chapter 24: Grims, Werewolves, and Bats- Oh, my!

They ended up in Dumbledore's office, in a tangle of arms and legs.

The aged Headmaster seemed to be expecting them, for their sudden arrival appeared not to startle him. Harry noticed that the white-bearded wizard's tall frame seemed taut with alertness and an air of command.

Quickly assessing the state of the three wizards before him, Dumbledore said crisply, "I think we had best adjourn to the hospital wing before taking care of any other business. Severus, if you would join us, please…"

Startled, for he had not noticed his father's presence until that moment, Harry glanced at the Potions Master. The older wizard's face was stony, and his dark eyes bore down uncomfortably on the teenager before him. Harry quickly looked away.

"Gentlemen, are you up to using the Floo?" At their nods, he continued, "Very well then, let's be off."

Madam Pomfrey was none too pleased at finding her domain suddenly crowded by several unexpected visitors. Upon seeing Sirius Black, she stifled a shriek.

"Headmaster, what's going on here? I would very much like an explanation!" the medi-witch demanded indignantly.

"Messrs. Black, Lupin, and Potter are in need of your excellent healing skills, Poppy," replied Dumbledore evenly. "You shall have your explanation, but I must ask you not to breathe a word of this to anyone outside the Order."

_Madam Pomfrey isn't going to notify the Ministry about Sirius? Wait...she never said anything before, either, when Mum's concealment charms wore off. And what's this Order Dumbledore mentioned?_ Harry wondered. He couldn't be sure, but he had a nagging suspicion that it had something to do with the "old crowd" that Dumbledore had mentioned at the end of last year.

"As if I would, Albus," Pomfrey sniffed. "Very well, seeing as Mr. Black has decided to return from the dead, you'd best set up some wards to prevent nosy guests from seeing him and asking unwanted questions."

"But of course," came the Headmaster's response.

"You three, come with me," said the medi-witch crisply to the three injured wizards. She was already leading them to a row of beds, when Severus intervened.

"I'll tend to Mr. Potter, Madam Pomfrey," he said quietly. "I think Black and Lupin have greater need of your assistance." At her doubtful look, he continued: "I assure you, I'm quite capable of tending to a minor burn wound. Don't worry, I'll bring him straight back to you to inspect- after he's had a very stern talking-to."

"Mind you do," the nurse said sternly. "Now, Mr. Black, I'm going to cast a diagnostic charm…"

Harry scowled as his father grasped him firmly by the elbow, escorting him to the Potions Master's office. Severus Snape had allowed his emotionless exterior to slip a bit, judging by his clenched jaw and flaring nostrils. As they entered the office, Severus pointed a shaking finger at a chair.

"You," he snapped. "Sit there, and don't move a muscle until I get back."

With a swish of black robes, the Potions Master exited in the direction of the adjoining laboratory. Harry sat and stewed, nursing his shoulder, not quite sure how to process the rapid chain of events that had just transpired.

He was angry with his father for rebuking him like a child that had misbehaved- in front of Sirius, Lupin, and Dumbledore, no less. He was also worried about the injuries his godfather and the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor had incurred.

Then, of course, there was the matter of Sirius. Harry was thrilled to see his godfather alive and well, but annoyed that the man had tried to shield him from anything more than a rather basic explanation of what had happened in Wales. It was pretty obvious, from Sirius' appearance, that he had been tortured. _His fingernails were effing torn off! Does he think I wouldn't notice something like that? _Harry was no stranger to torture, be it emotional or physical. _I've probably dealt with even more crap than Sirius realises_, he thought, slightly resentfully.

The lanky boy's thoughts were interrupted as his father returned, bearing a cloth and two different potions bottles. By the look of him, Severus was still angry, although he did seem to have calmed down significantly. Harry stared determinedly at the floor.

"Look at me, son," commanded Severus gently, but with a hint of steel. Stony-faced and silent, Harry obeyed, green eyes meeting glittering black.

Severus sighed, his anger dissipating further.

"Let's tend to that shoulder before I begin lecturing you, hmm? Unless you'd rather sit there and suffer, of course?" he inquired with sarcastic mock-politeness.

The last comment brought a reluctant snort of amusement from the dark-haired boy seated in the chair, who allowed his father to clean the rather large burn with an antiseptic and apply some sort of salve. _Seed oil of the eglantine flower_, he remembered, _for burns_.

"Now," said the Potions Master, seating himself behind his desk. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

Harry stared sullenly at the floor again.

"Harry, it's in your best interest to explain how this mess happened. What possessed you to wander away from Hogsmeade, risking your neck? Have you no _common sense_?"

"I got a letter from Sirius. I didn't think you'd let me go meet him, so I just…went," the teen stated, with a touch of both defensiveness and defiance.

Severus wanted to throw his hands in the air in exasperation. No use asking why his son hadn't brought the letter to an adult's attention.

"Harry, we all believed Black was dead. Lupin saw the man's body with his own eyes. Did it not occur to you that the letter might be a trap to lure you out of Hogwarts?"

"Of course it did!" the boy retorted. "That's why I snooped around the cave in my invisibility cloak before just showing up the way the letter had asked. And when the Death Eaters showed up, there was no way I was going to just leave Sirius there, they were _hurting_ him!" His voice rose in pitch and cracked.

"Harry, one fifteen-year-old, partly-trained wizard against three Death Eaters is suicide. If Lupin hadn't risked his own arse to get you out of there, you and I wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation."

"He _is_ going to be all right, isn't he?" Harry asked, a note of anxiety creeping into his voice. Inside, he was squirming guiltily at the realization that Lupin had been injured protecting him.

"He'll be fine. Werewolves heal far more quickly than ordinary wizards," came the neutral response. "Harry, promise me that you won't go off on any escapades like this again, at least not before consulting an adult."

Harry didn't respond immediately, prompting Severus to ask, "Well?"

The dark-haired teenager shook his head. "No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?" asked his father, nonplussed and more than a little annoyed.

"I can't make a promise I don't know I can keep. What if there's an emergency, and there's no time to go find a professor? Or if no professor's available? Or-"

"I get the picture," the elder wizard interrupted, holding up a hand to stop his son. "But the point I'm trying to make is that tonight's incident falls into neither of those categories. You had plenty of opportunity to tell an adult about that letter, which you _knew_ could have been a trap. Instead, the first thing I hear is that you've gone missing. You could've been injured far worse than that burn on your shoulder, you could have been captured, or killed- I shudder to think what would have happened had the Dark Lord got his hands on you tonight."

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Dad," the boy said contritely. "And I'm sorry Professor Lupin and Sirius got hurt. It's just- I don't know if I can get used to letting adults handle my problems. Living with the Dursleys kind of does that to a person."

Severus pursed his lips, trying to word carefully what he wanted to say next. Petunia and Vernon Dursley's parenting skills left much to be desired. Their neglect had clearly left its mark on his son, something that pained Severus every time he saw the evidence of it.

"Harry, I only know what you've told me of how your aunt and uncle raised you. If they're the sort of people I think they are, it's no wonder you're not used to having a parent or guardian worry over you. Son, you don't need to consider every problem that comes your way to be your responsibility. Your independent nature is usually one of your strengths, but it can also be a weakness when you don't make use of your allies.

Please don't hesitate to come and talk to me just because you think I might worry, or because you don't want to bother me, or because you think I might say no. As your father, it's my business to worry over you, to know what's going on in your life, and to keep you out of trouble as much as I can."

Harry looked slightly stunned.

"You really do mean that, that you worry about me and- and all the rest of it?" he stammered.

"Why wouldn't I?" his father responded, baffled.

"Sorry, sir. It's nothing…just, erm-" Harry looked rather embarrassed.

The Potions Master arched an eyebrow. "Well, spit it out!"

"I'm really not a pest, or embarrassment, or just another obligation to you?" he blurted quickly, green eyes meeting black ones almost fearfully.

Severus was astonished.

"Never!"

"Good," the boy breathed, the stunned look back in his eyes again.

"I'm very proud of you, Harry," Severus said softly. "Reckless and headache-causing though you are." The last part was delivered with a slight upward curl of the mouth, and a warmth in the dark eyes that Harry rarely saw.

"Thanks," said Harry huskily.

Impulsively for such a normally reserved man, Severus embraced his son and brushed a kiss on his brow. Harry was surprised and a little embarrassed (he was fifteen, after all- much too old for such displays of affection!), but also secretly pleased at the attention.

"Get your slimy hands off my godson, you bastard!" growled a voice from the doorway.

In a heartbeat, Snape's wand was out and he and Sirius Black were squared off as if preparing for a duel.

"Black! How in Hades did you get into my private chambers?"

"What were you doing to my godson, you perverted piece of filth?" Sirius' icy blue gaze was furious; the escaped convict looked like a wild animal ready to attack.

"ENOUGH!"

[A/N]: Mwahaha! I'm cruel, aren't I? Don't worry, Chapter 25 is almost finished- I'm not so heartless as to keep you waiting for several months again. If you read and enjoyed Chapter 24, please review! Go on, you know you want to…


	25. A Sirius Talk

A/N: Wow, it's been a while! Real life and writer's block decided to intervene with my fanfic-writing time, but Harry and Sev refused to let me go. They chained me to the computer until I finished this chapter and mapped out the next few. So, here's Chapter 25 for your entertainment!

Chapter 25: A Sirius Talk

Dumbledore's voice rang out clearly. With a swish of his midnight blue robes, the aged Headmaster strode authoritatively forward, placing himself between the two irate men. Heart thumping, Harry waited to see what would happen next.

"You will both refrain from assaulting one another! To answer your questions, gentlemen: Severus, I brought Sirius here to see Harry, because the four of us have some fairly pressing matters to discuss. Sirius, I am quite certain that what you saw was not as it seemed. Severus would not harm a hair on young Harry's head."

"Why do you trust that- that _Snape_, Dumbledore? For once, just _tell me why_!" Sirius' ground out, jaw clenched. He was clearly working hard to maintain his self-control.

"As I've told you many times before," the Headmaster replied, "That's a matter between myself and Severus- and now Harry too, it seems." When Sirius opened his mouth to protest, the old wizard held up a hand, stopping him. "And with their permission, I'd like to bring you 'into the loop,' to use a Muggle expression. Severus, Harry?" he inquired.

Reluctantly, the dark-haired Potions Master nodded in terse acquiescence. Then he noticed that the youth beside him was trembling slightly.

_He's going to _hate_ me I can't loose him too but he deserves to know but does he have to 'cause they're gonna fight I just know it and they'll yell just like Uncle Vernon does he'll be so _angry_ God I just wish I could disappear I don't know what to do but this has to happen sooner or later but God not now…_

"Harry?" Severus asked, touching the boy's arm lightly. "Are you all right?"

Harry seemed not to hear him; wide green eyes were darting rapidly back and forth between the professor and the escaped convict. The boy's pupils were dilated, and his breaths grew increasingly more rapid and shallow.

"_Harry!_" barked Severus sharply. Harry jumped, glancing wildly around him for a moment. "Did you hear the Headmaster's question, Harry?" the Potions Master asked, very gently.

Face drained of colour, Harry nodded stiffly.

"And…?" Severus prompted.

"Tell him," the boy whispered. His voice was barely audible, but it carried clearly enough in the tense silence of the room.

"Perhaps we had best sit down," suggested Dumbledore, eyeing the two other men.

Severus and Sirius looked as though they'd rather be pacing, and Harry personally would rather have bolted from the room had an irksome little voice inside him not been reminding him that he'd later regret doing so. So it was that he found himself seated next to his father on the same sofa he had cried himself to sleep on only a few days ago.

There was a very awkward silence, as no one seemed eager to be first to speak. Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"There are times," the aged Headmaster said slowly, "when actions say much more than words ever could. Harry, Severus, would you mind if I remove the Mirror Charm?"

Harry chewed his lip as he glanced at the Potions Master quickly. "I suppose it _would_ be the simplest explanation," the boy murmured wryly. In that instant, he looked quite like his mother. Severus disconcerted, as he always was, by these sudden flashes of Lily Potter that flashed across their son's face.

_Ah, Lily, if only you could see him now. He's doing it again, putting on a brave face even though he's so clearly ill at ease. Would you see as much of yourself in him as I do?_

"You needn't if you don't wish to, you know," reminded Severus softly, dark eyes locking with his son's.

"No, I- I think it's probably for the best," replied Harry.

"Very well, then," Dumbledore said. "Sit back and try to relax, Harry. Removing the charm doesn't take nearly as much time as casting it."

Drawing a deep breath, Harry closed his eyes and let his body sink back into the sofa. He heard Dumbledore incanting something in a language he couldn't understand, and once more his body felt as though it were tingling all over. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, really, but neither was it exactly enjoyable. The closest thing he could relate it to was the prickly pins-and-needles feeling of blood rushing back to a limb that's been sitting still for too long.

If Harry had had his eyes open, he would have noticed Sirius watching the entire process with a confused, wary expression. Some moments later, the teen sat bolt upright upon hearing his godfather's hastily muffled swearing.

Far from sitting tacitly as he had before, the ex-convict was now on his feet glaring accusingly the Headmaster.

"What in Hades is going on here, Dumbledore? Who is this boy? Where's Harry?"

"Sirius, it's me- _I'm_ Harry. I know I look different, but I swear, it really is me," Harry said quickly.

"How do I know you're Harry? Tell me something only Harry would know."

"Er…Hermione and I freed Buckbeak and helped you escape at the end of my third year?"

"Dumbledore could have told you about that. Tell me something else."

"Okay, how about this: the Christmas present you gave me last year was a penknife."

"Fine. Now, for the last time, will someone please tell me what is going on?"

"Just look at them, Sirius," Dumbledore said quietly. "Take a good look at Severus, then a good look at your godson."

Severus indulged in a barely-concealed smirk at Sirius as the escaped convict put two and two together.

Pale-faced, Sirius sank back into his chair and spluttered: "_No!_ How did- what- you can't be trying to tell me that Harry is this git's _son_! It's not possible!"

"I assure you, it's more than possible. You _do_ know about the birds and the bees, don't you, Black?" drawled the Potions Master sardonically.

"Severus," the Headmaster said warningly.

"How long have you all known about this?" Sirius demanded.

"Since September," Harry replied in a small voice.

"_And not one of you thought to tell me?_" his godfather hissed, shaking with fury.

Harry had never seen his godfather so incensed. It reminded him, unwillingly, of Uncle Vernon's tirades, most of which had resulted in Harry getting kicked (literally) into his cupboard and locked in the cramped space for several hours. He tried to remind himself that Sirius would never treat his own godson like that, but the boy was helpless to stop his own body from instinctively shrinking away.

Merlin why did I agree to this it's happening just like I thought it would now they're going to yell, always yelling no matter what 'home' I'm in…

"With good reason, Black!" Severus was saying. "It was difficult enough for the two of us to get used to the idea of being family without bringing more people into the equation."

"How is Dumbledore involved in this, then?"

"He administered the Paternis Veritas test," responded Severus, as though daring Sirius to challenge the veracity of this statement.

Rounding on Harry, Sirius pleaded: "Surely you can't tell me you _agreed_ to this test?"

"Of course I did," the boy replied staunchly. At his godfather's look of disbelief, he added: "All right, so I might not have liked Professor Snape much at the time-" he glanced apologetically at his father- "but I knew he was on our side. Besides, I've got precious few relatives left, and I don't consider the Dursleys family. How quickly did I agree to live with _you_ when we figured out you were innocent?"

Sirius fell silent.

Placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, Severus turned towards Dumbledore. "Headmaster, I promised Madam Pomfrey I'd let her examine Harry. Perhaps now might be a good time for me to escort him to the Hospital Wing. Tell Black the story, if you must. Harry and I will return in a few minutes."

Harry glanced sharply at Snape as though he wanted to say something, but kept silent.

"Very well," Dumbledore replied. "Might I suggest that you use the Floo, however, so as to avoid unwanted attention?"

"Of course." The black-robed man glowered at Sirius as if he might direct some nasty comment toward the escaped convict. Instead, he turned swiftly, ushering Harry towards the fireplace.

"All right, old man, I don't suppose you'd like to tell me just what is going on around here? If you're going to drop a bombshell like that- about _my_ godson- I think I ought to know the details!"

A sigh emanated from the Dumbledore's lips.

Hogwarts' Headmaster suddenly looked quite tired and quite old, but Sirius was unwilling to give up until some of his many questions were answered.

"You can't expect me to believe that Lily would have an affair with Snape, Dumbledore!" snapped the ex-convict. "She and James were in love. It was obvious to anyone who looked at them!"

Dumbledore sighed again.

"No, my friend, what happened was not an affair. Do you remember the events surrounding Serafina Bell's death?"

Sirius looked confused and somewhat irritated by the abruptness of the question.

"The attack? Of course I remember- James wouldn't let Lily out of his sight for a month after that. Can't say I blame him. Lils was a wreck, but she pulled herself together as soon as she realized she was pregnant. She and James seemed thrilled about being parents, even if Harry wasn't exactly planned."

A corner of Sirius' mouth curved upwards in bittersweet memory. The lips that formed the half-smile suddenly pursed into an unforgiving line as their owner came to a realization.

"Are you telling me that the attack- that's when Harry was conceived? _Snape_ was one of the Death Eaters involved? Then he- Merlin's balls, _I'll kill him_!" Sirius leapt to his feet, snarling.

Dumbledore stopped him in his tracks with a quick spell.

"Now listen to me, Sirius. You've only heard part of the story, and before you go rushing off without a second thought, you are going to sit down and _let me tell you the rest of it_!" the elderly wizard said in a voice that brooked no disagreement.

Power and authority radiated from the lines in the ancient face, reminding Sirius that this was the one wizard whom Voldemort feared. Flicking his wand, Dumbledore ended the spell and released Sirius from his frozen position. With a strength that belied his thin frame, he pushed the younger wizard back down into the chair Sirius had abandoned moments before.

Glowering, Sirius settled back in his seat and prepared to listen to what Dumbledore had to say.

"Words cannot describe the state Severus was in when he came to me that night. To say he was sickened by his actions would be an understatement. This young man- or boy, more accurately, as he was only just turned eighteen at the time- was near hysteria, barely able to explain to me what had just happened."

_Snape, hysterical? _Sirius unsuccessfully tried to picture the younger Snape in such a state. _Nah, the bastard's only ever snarky, not…hysterical_.

Dumbledore briefly outlined the facts as Severus had related them to him those many years ago. He continued:

"Sirius, you have often asked me why I would choose to trust a former Death Eater. You would have had no way of knowing that Severus' career as a 'true' Death Eater lasted no longer than a few weeks at most. Apparently the attack on Lily Potter and her roommate was an initiation rite, a test of sorts for Severus and his would-be colleagues.

"And did he pass the test?" Sirius asked, not bothering to keep a sneer he felt from forming on his face.

"Barely. Severus' reluctance to participate in the raids on Muggles and muggleborns did little to help him gain Voldemort's trust. Gradually, however, his former master became convinced of his loyalty, and Severus managed to make himself indispensable by providing potions and information.

"Understand, Sirius, that as a spy Severus occasionally has to participate in these raids. He has used Unforgivables, and he has had to commit far worse crimes than the one I have just described to you. He despises it. Yet he has no choice, because the Ministry will not hesitate to throw him straight into Azkaban if he does not provide them with information on Voldemort's activities."

Sirius' anger ebbed somewhat. The threat of Azkaban was something he could identify with. _I still wouldn't mind seeing him guarded by Dementors for a while…he deserves to suffer for what he's done…but what a wretched existence, to be slave to the Ministry like that. Especially now, when the Ministry won't acknowledge that Voldemort's returned. Poor sod_.

An odd look crossed Sirius' face as something occurred to him.

"Did James know Harry wasn't his?"

"Who knows?" replied Dumbledore. "I do not know if we shall ever know the answer to that question. But think, Sirius. If James was aware of the truth of the matter, he couldn't have loved Harry more if that child were his own flesh and blood. He was prepared to raise Harry as his own, and he gave his life to protect him.

"Harry needs you, Sirius. He was terrified to tell you that Severus is his father, because he's certain you'll reject him. Your love and acceptance mean more to him than he'll ever admit. I'm afraid he's had precious little affection in his life."

Sirius couldn't tear his eyes away from the Headmaster's piercing blue gaze. Those ancient orbs held far too much wisdom, too much sympathy and understanding of the human condition. Sirius felt like a child in comparison.

"I had hoped, when I placed him with them, that the Dursleys would treat Harry as their own child," Dumbledore continued.

"I regret that that does not seem to have been the case. Have you not noticed how remarkably independent he is? The few adults he trusts, he barely confides in. That boy has more weight on his shoulders than most grown men, yet he cannot bring himself to share it with anyone else."

"It _was_ surprising how quickly he agreed to live with me when I asked him. I thought he would be reluctant to leave his aunt and uncle, since they're the only family he's ever known. Until now," the ex-convict acknowledged. Sirius sighed and continued: "I'd better talk to him. Who knows what's going through that head of his right now?"

* * *


	26. Family History

Chapter 26: Family History

"Ah, good!" said Madam Pomfrey when she saw them stumble out of the infirmary's fireplace. Righting himself, Harry envied his father's ability to land, cat-like, on his feet.

Hogwarts' Potions Master and Nurse were conferring quietly together as Harry attempted to brush off soot from his baggy t-shirt and jeans.

"I'd like you to give him a thorough examination," Snape was saying. "Make sure he hasn't any other injuries besides that burn."

"Erm, Professor?" Harry interrupted. "Really, I'm all right- there's no need for Madam Pomfrey to go to so much trouble."

"Yes, there is. I should have let her examine you earlier this year-"

"_No!_ You promised!" cried out Harry accusingly. He looked ready to bolt at any moment. Sensing that the two had some remaining issues to work out, Madam Pomfrey discreetly withdrew to her office to give them some more privacy.

"Harry," Severus began, "You're right, I did make a promise to you. And I don't break promises lightly. Neither, I should mention, does Madam Pomfrey.

"Very few people know this, but my back and shoulders have the same sort of scars that yours do. When I was a student here, Madam Pomfrey tended to me every time I returned to Hogwarts after the holidays. My father was…not a nice man. Much like your Uncle Vernon. In any case, what I'm trying to say is this: you _can_ trust Madam Pomfrey, and I'll feel better knowing she's examined you."

Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. "But- won't she have to report it? The scars on my back, I mean? The Ministry would probably take me away from the Dursleys. And- and, well, I _have_ to stay with them, don't I? Because of the protection Dumbledore talked about," he concluded miserably.

He didn't mention that the possibility of being placed in an orphanage terrified him, for it would mean one more thing he shared in common with Tom Riddle. Nor did he voice his desperate wish that he could stay with his father over the summer. Harry didn't dare hope that Sirius would want anything to do with him, now that he knew Harry's true parentage.

"Harry, you will _not_ be going back to your aunt and uncle this summer! Not if I have anything to say about it," growled Severus, beetle-black eyes glinting fiercely.

"But last summer, I couldn't even go to Ron's house. Where would I stay, if not with the Dursleys?"

"Why not stay here at Hogwarts, with me?"

Severus suddenly found himself gasping for air as he was practically tackled by one dark-haired teenaged boy, who had embraced him with a shout of enthusiastic glee.

"I'll take that as a yes, then?" the Potions Master asked, corners of his mouth upturned. At Harry's fervent nod, both of them broke out into full-fledged grins.

"You're sure you really want me to stay with you? I won't be in your way or anything?"

Cupping his son's face with both hands, Severus looked him straight in the eye and said firmly: "What did we just talk about in my office? _You_ are _never_ an inconvenience. I would be delighted if you chose to live with me, Sir Trips-a-lot."

"_Da-ad!_" Harry protested automatically at the hated nickname, but he was smiling nonetheless.

"As for safety, Hogwarts' castle is one of the safest places in Britain. Additionally, you'd still have the protection of a blood relative. I don't think Albus would have any objections, but the Ministry is an entirely different story."

The boy's face filled with doubt as he recalled the many obstacles posed by that organization. Then Harry's bright green eyes narrowed in consideration.

"If I showed, well, whichever Ministry person it would be the scars on my back and told him how I got them, do you think he'd be convinced that it'd be wrong to leave me with my aunt and uncle?"

"I know you don't like others seeing those scars, but they _are_ evidence…if you are willing to let them be used as such. I don't see how the Ministry could allow you to stay with the Dursleys once they knew that your uncle has begun to be physically abusive towards you."

"Fudge will try and control me though, won't he? No offence, but with your history, and my history- not to mention his position- he _does_ have some pretty significant leverage."

"True," Severus acknowledged. "But the wizarding world is also very conservative about family matters. Blood is extremely important in pureblood society. We don't have many orphanages, because pureblood families are expected to support an orphaned child from their bloodline-no matter how distant the relation- if no closer relatives can be found."

"You don't have any relatives out there who'd try and claim me, do you?"

"None of my immediate family are alive. My mother was a Prewett, but most of them were killed in the first war. Then there are the Lovegoods, they're also rather distant cousins of the Snape family...but then, they've always been staunch supporters of Dumbledore. I don't think they'd try and cause any problems."

"Lovegood?" Harry asked. The name sounded vaguely familiar to him, but he wasn't sure where he had heard it before.

"Oh, yes. One of them's actually a current Hogwarts student. Luna Lovegood, in Ravenclaw. Fourth year. Truthfully, I had all but forgotten the connection until this conversation."

"I have a cousin here at Hogwarts?" the teenaged wizard asked interestedly. How odd, to have unknowingly been attending school with a cousin his own age. He had probably seen her around the castle, but for the life of him he couldn't recall what she might look like. Maybe Ginny would know her, as they were in the same year.

"We'll talk more about this later," Severus promised.

Mollified, Harry consented to allowing Madam Pomfrey to examine him. Severus appeared satisfied upon her pronouncement that Harry was in good health and that his shoulder wound appeared to have been expertly treated.

As father and son prepared to Floo back to the Potions Master's rooms, Severus spoke quietly to Harry: "Listen, Harry…I won't pretend I'm not biased, but if Black refuses to accept you simply because James was not your father…well, he doesn't deserve you. Understand?"

Growing nervous now, Harry managed a tight smile of acknowledgement.

Dumbledore and Sirius were waiting for them as they tumbled out of the fireplace into Snape's quarters. As he brushed soot off of himself, Harry guiltily half-wished the Headmaster and his godfather had decided to leave rather than stay. His gaze flicked nervously to Sirius a few times before settling on the Headmaster. It was hard to tell what Sirius was thinking, but the look in his godfather's eyes every time he looked at Snape made Harry decidedly uneasy.

"It may be some time before the four of us are able to meet face-to-face again. That being the case, I was rather hoping we could take this opportunity to discuss your living situation, Harry," the Headmaster said.

Harry eyed him somewhat warily.

"Your father has asked me- several times, actually- if it would be possible for you to live with him during the holidays. Have the two of you discussed this option yet?"

Before Harry or Severus could respond, Sirius cut in:

"I've already asked Harry to live with me. You don't deserve him, _Snivellus_. No child should be raised by a Death Eater, reformed or no. I don't care if you are his father, I'll do everything in my power to make sure you can never gain custody of him. You'll never see that boy again."

"And just how do you intend to stop me?" sneered the Potions Master. "You can hardly waltz in to the Ministry of Magic and file a petition. Fudge's cronies would have you back in Azkaban before you could draw a wand. Not that you were ever much better than a Squib at spellwork, anyway."

"SHUT UP!" bellowed Harry.

Severus and Sirius immediately fell silent and gaped at him.

"I _hate_ you! I hate you _both_! The way you're acting, I wouldn't want to live with _either_ of you. I'm not some object to be fought over, and I sure as hell don't need a parent, anyway! I got on fine without any for fourteen years. I don't need either of you, so just bugger off and take your stupid schoolboy grudge with you!"

With that, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door violently behind him.

He heard Dumbledore and the others calling after him, but he ignored their frantic voices. He was too angry to care. What right had they to even _try_ and control him, to fight over him like that? It was _his_ life! Didn't Harry's own opinions count?

Breaking into a run, Harry raced through the corridors until he reached the statue of the humpbacked witch. He practically dove into the tunnel leading to the cellar of Honeydukes. It was only when he was nearly to the trapdoor in Hogsmeade that he altered his pace, slowing down to a walk and sucking in great lungfuls of air.

Leaning his back and shoulders on the tunnel wall, Harry tried to gather his thoughts. He'd been so furious that he hadn't even considered the possibility that someone might have seen him in the castle. If he turned back now, out of necessity he'd have to go straight to Dumbledore to have the Mirror Charm replaced. Which also meant he'd be on the receiving end of his father's temper for a second time in twenty-four hours. Dumbledore had yet to chastise Harry for the cave incident, but after his most recent behaviour, the teen didn't doubt he was in for some sort of punishment.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that if he were to spend the rest of the afternoon in Hogsmeade, no one would recognize him. After all, he didn't look like Harry Potter anymore, just another Hogwarts student. So what if there were Death Eaters out there? They had already tried and failed to capture Harry Potter and Sirius Black that day; they wouldn't expect either of them to return to Hogsmeade so soon.

Rebelliousness getting the better of him, Harry pushed open the trapdoor.

It was exhilarating, the freedom he felt. He could wander in and out of the shops in complete anonymity. He caught himself automatically trying to smooth down his fringe to hide his scar before recalling that it wouldn't matter if people saw it. Strolling into the apothecary, he purchased a fresh supply of some potions ingredients he was running low on, relishing the absence of the stares that usually followed him whenever he was in Hogsmeade.

On a whim, he decided to try and find Ron and Hermione. It would be amusing to see their reactions to his changed appearance.

He spotted them in the Three Broomsticks, seated at a table with mugs of Butterbeer.

Harry hesitated a moment before walking up to them, wondering if the sight of Ron and Hermione with a dark-haired boy would be too familiar to the other patrons in the pub. Rather than joining them at their table as he would have liked, he settled on a compromise.

"Oy, Weasley," said Harry as he walked up to his red-haired friend.

Ron glanced up at him, confused.

"Do I know you?" the youngest Weasley boy asked, a hint of suspicion and annoyance colouring his tone.

Smirking, Harry quietly leaned over and said in a low voice: "It's me, mate. Minus the disguise. I can't stay in here long- it might make people suspicious. Meet me outside in a few minutes."

His friends' eyes grew wide for just an instant.

He could hear them whispering furiously together as he turned on his heel and left the Three Broomsticks. He would have loved to hear that conversation, but he didn't linger to listen. Crossing the street, he pretended to be gazing into a window display.

Five minutes later, a furtive-looking Ron and Hermione joined him. He was surprised (and somewhat irritated) to find that Hermione didn't look pleased about his presence in Hogsmeade. He soon found out why.

"Harry, what were you _thinking_?" she hissed, quietly and with obvious disapproval. "I thought the whole point of your disguise was so that people wouldn't know what you really looked like! Do the professor and Dumbledore know you're here?"

"Ah, come one, 'mione, give the man a break! He's not banned from Hogsmeade visits. Besides, he needed to get out. He's been moping too much lately," argued Ron.

"That reminds me," said Harry, grinning broadly. "I have some good news. Snuffles isn't dead!"

"What-" Hermione gasped.

"How-" Ron spluttered.

"I'll explain it to you as we walk," he suggested. "I have a lot to tell you."


	27. Mistaken Identity?

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, folks! You know I appreciate them. Without further ado, here's Chapter 27!

Chapter 27: Mistaken Identity?

"They started acting like complete prats, so I sort of- yelled at them both, and then I ran out. And here I am," Harry said.

Ron tried unsuccessfully to hide a smirk. "You yelled at Snape? And you're alive to tell the tale?"

"It isn't funny!" Harry snapped. "I'm definitely in for it when we get back to Hogwarts. I already got told off for the cave incident."

A breeze ruffled his hair, and he irritatedly smoothed his fringe down.

"Just talk to them, Harry," Hermione advised. "Sort things out while you've got the chance."

"I know, I know," the dark-haired boy let out a huff of frustration. "I'm just not looking forward to it."

Sorting things out, of course, presumed that Sirius would be willing to even talk to Harry. The teenaged wizard didn't think that was likely, but he didn't mention his opinion to Ron and Hermione.

"Oh, no," moaned Ron softly. "Look who's coming!"

Harry caught a flash of blond hair approaching them.

"Great. Just great," he muttered under his breath. "Exactly what I need to make my day- Malfoy and his pet gorillas."

He started to turn and leave, but it was too late.

"Fancy seeing you here, scarhead."

"I beg your pardon?" Harry said coolly, as though he had never seen the other boy before in his life. In a mannerism unconsciously borrowed from his father, Harry arched a sardonic black eyebrow.

Draco looked at him more closely. With a flood of relief, Harry noticed the surprise that flitted across the Slytherin's face.

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"I see," drawled Harry, still aloof. To his astonishment and gratification, Malfoy looked somewhat flustered.

"You don't go to Hogwarts, do you? I'm sure I would recognise you if you did."

"No, I'm not a Hogwarts student," Harry replied, scrambling to think of a plausible story. "I'm home-schooled."

"Really? I'm sorry, I should introduce myself: I'm Draco Malfoy, and these are my friends, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle."

He extended his hand. Playing along, Harry shook it.

"Robert Prewett."

"What brings you to Hogsmeade?" Malfoy asked, still studying him keenly. If he recognised the family name, the blonde boy gave no indication.

"Oh- I'm just visiting for the day. Ron is a distant cousin of mine, and he was kind enough to show me around and introduce me to some of his friends," Harry invented, gesturing to Ron and Hermione.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your visit. Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't, but I'm from Wales."

"Right. Well, I won't take up any more of your time. Nice meeting you. Granger, Weasley," Malfoy nodded at Harry's friends.

"See you back at school, then, Malfoy," said Hermione, still eyeing the Slytherin with suspicion.

Malfoy acknowledged her comment with a curt nod before walking away with Crabbe and Goyle.

"Was Malfoy actually acting somewhat…_polite_?" Ron asked incredulously.

"That's not what's got me concerned!" Hermione said sharply. "He shouldn't have seen you at all, Harry. Suppose he mentions this encounter to _certain people_?"

She shook her head worriedly, and a gust of wind fanned her wild curls into even more disarray. Harry's insides twisted as he realised that if that gust of wind had occurred just a few moments ago, Malfoy would have seen his scar. The Slytherin had appeared to be convinced that "Robert Prewett" wasn't Harry Potter, but seeing the lightening-bolt shaped mark would have been entirely too much of a coincidence.

"Maybe you should head back to the castle, Harry," Ron suggested quietly. The many freckles on his face stood out starkly.

Harry felt his stomach knot. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

Ron and Hermione's reticence spoke volumes.

"I shouldn't have encouraged you to stay in Hogsmeade," Ron said abruptly. "The sooner you get your disguise back on, the better. Let's go."

In silence, they walked back towards the Honeydukes and the heart of Hogsmeade. Dusk was rapidly approaching, the last of the afternoon sunlight fading away. Most Hogwarts students had already returned to the castle, although a few could be spotted making last-minute purchases in various stores. The trio split up at the sweet shop, Ron and Hermione ensuring that Harry could slip unnoticed into the cellar.

Slowly, Harry trudged through the tunnel. With each step, he drew a little nearer to Hogwarts castle and a little nearer to the unavoidable conversations with the authority figures in his life. He really wasn't sure what to expect, and this made him all the more edgy. A small part of him wondered if he had crossed the line, if Severus would reject him, despite the man's words of reassurance in the Hospital Wing. On top of that, Harry was still exasperated by the childish bickering between his godfather and father. The teen didn't regret having yelled at them, but he did regret his choice of words. In truth, Harry cared about Sirius and Severus very much, and the thought of having to choose between them was tearing him apart.

Hearing no footsteps or voices nearby, Harry carefully emerged from the statue of the hump-backed witch. He was unprepared for the sight of his father waiting for him, black-sleeved arms crossed sternly across his chest. Throat dry, Harry swallowed nervously in the short silence that followed.

"Come. We're going to the Headmaster's office."

"Am I going to be expelled?" Harry asked quietly.

His father's thin lips pursed.

"That remains to be seen. Such matters are for the Headmaster to decide, not me."

Well, the answer hadn't been an outright 'yes'- that was something. But Severus hadn't denied the possibility of expulsion, either. Harry sighed.

Glumly, Harry scuffed his feet as he walked beside his father, desisting quickly when the man shot him a pointed glare. Sooner than Harry would have liked, they arrived at Dumbledore's office.

The Potions Master knocked on the heavy wooden door, the noise loud in the silence surrounding them.

"Enter."

Harry followed his father into the room, his gaze automatically drawn to the Headmaster. The twinkling of the old wizard's blue eyes was replaced by a sternness that, while disquieting, did not lack compassion. Harry quickly looked away, unable to bear the intensity behind those half-moon glasses.

Dumbledore motioned for them to be seated.

"It's been quite an eventful week, hasn't it, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

Not trusting himself to speak, Harry simply nodded.

"You'll be pleased to know that Professor Lupin is going to be perfectly fine," Dumbledore continued.

The teen flinched. He was to blame for Professor Lupin's injury. His father was right: Harry should have told an adult about Sirius' letter rather than going to the cave alone.

"It's my fault he got hurt," Harry blurted.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Severus snapped, dark eyes flashing. "Lupin's a grown wizard, he knew what he was getting into."

"Why don't you explain why you think it's your fault, Harry," Dumbledore suggested gently.

"Professor Lupin must've found out I'd gone to the cave on my own. He showed up there because he must've realised I was in danger."

"Did you intend for Professor Lupin to be wounded?"

Mutely, Harry shook his head.

"Did you cast the spell that injured him?"

"No! But I might as well have done. Because he was trying to protect me."

"Ah," said the aged wizard. "That's the heart of the matter, Harry. Professor Lupin _chose_ to go to the cave today, out of concern for you. No one forced him to go. Are you to shoulder the blame for the consequences of other people's decisions?"

The Headmaster paused to peer at Harry through his half-moon spectacles.

"You must not take more guilt upon yourself than you actually deserve. However, this is not to say that your behaviour today is excusable."

"Am I going to be expelled, sir?"

"Not today."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

The Headmaster continued, "I find that it would not be appropriate for me to discipline you, as you technically did not break any school rules. No, I think the role of disciplinarian belongs to your father in this case."

"Oh," said Harry.

"Now then. I assume you've been wandering around Hogsmeade all afternoon, Mirror Charm-free?"

Sensing that Dumbledore's question was really more of a statement, Harry nodded. Severus scowled and looked as though he was about to start berating his son, but a glance from the Headmaster stalled him.

"How did it go?"

Harry frowned, belligerence stirring within him. He was sick of the Mirror Charm and would just as soon not have it re-cast. Why should Harry have to continue hiding his true identity, especially if the Ministry were going to find out before much longer?

"I didn't attract much attention from the townspeople, if that's what you mean. But then Draco Malfoy saw me walking with Ron and Hermione, and he thought I was Harry Potter at first," the boy said. It felt strange to be speaking about himself as if he were someone else. "When he took a closer look, he seemed surprised, like he didn't recognise me. I pretended not to know him. He introduced himself, and when he asked who I was, I told him I was Ron's cousin, visiting Hogsmeade for the day."

Dumbledore rested his bearded chin on long, steepled fingers.

"I imagine you're growing quite tired of that Mirror Charm, eh, Harry?"

Harry raised an eyebrow wryly. "You could say that, sir. Although to be honest, I completely forgot I wasn't disguised when I er… ran off… this afternoon. I didn't remember until I was already to Hogsmeade."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth might have twitched, but so subtly that Harry thought he might have imagined it.

"How much longer do I have to stay disguised, Professor? I know it depends on a lot of factors," Harry glanced at Severus, "but the truth _will_ come out eventually. Why shouldn't _we_ control that process, while we've still got the opportunity?"

"An excellent suggestion, Harry," smiled the Headmaster. "As a matter of fact, your father and I spent a good part of this afternoon discussing how we might do exactly that."

The Potions Master surveyed his son with an air of mild amusement. "Are you certain you weren't supposed to be in Slytherin?"

"Actually, the Sorting Hat _did_ try to put me in Slytherin. I asked it not to, so it put me in Gryffindor instead," Harry replied, unable to keep a smirk from his face.

His father's eyes widened slightly. "You're joking!"

"Nope," said Harry, grinning.

Dumbledore laughed aloud at the expression on Severus' face.

"So what did you have in mind? About handling my appearance, I mean." Harry asked, bringing them back to the topic they had diverged from. The mood in the room turned sober again.

"We will have your appearance change gradually. We'll begin with an image that's nearly indistinguishable from Harry Potter and alter that image bit by bit over the next several months. By this spring, you should look exactly as you do now."

"How is something like that possible? Is it a spell, or potion, or something else?" Harry asked, nonplussed.

"We're going to enlist the help of a friend," Dumbledore said. "In fact, she should be here at Hogwarts by now."

The Headmaster straightened his midnight-blue robes as he stood from his chair. Striding over to the fireplace, he took a pinch of Floo Powder from a jar on the mantel and sprinkled the substance into the flames. Once they turned green, Dumbledore bent his tall frame so that he could place his head in the flickering magical fire.

"Hogwarts Hospital Wing!"

Harry had travelled by Floo before, but he had never seen a Floo call placed. He watched curiously.

"Madam Pomfrey, would you be so kind as to tell Nymphadora Tonks to come to my office, please?"

End Chapter 27


	28. Metamorphmagism

Chapter 28: Metamorphmagism

"Madam Pomfrey, would you be so kind as to tell Nymphadora Tonks to come to my office, please?"

Harry quickly moved out of the way as someone came tumbling out of the fireplace, nearly knocking him over.

"Ooof!" exclaimed a woman's voice.

Harry eyed the witch curiously. She looked young, probably no more than ten years older than him. Nymphadora Tonks evidently understood muggle clothing far better than the average witch or wizard. Although her t-shirt bore the logo of the Weird Sisters, the torn jeans and boots appeared perfectly non-magical. Her short, spiky hair was a vivid bubblegum pink colour.

"Nymphadora, thank you for coming on such short notice," said Dumbledore. "Lupin told you about Sirius?"

"Mum will be so pleased to know he's alive. Sirius was always her favourite cousin, you know. And Headmaster, please just call me Tonks. I loathe the name Nymphadora.

"Professor Snape! I didn't know you were part of this meeting," Tonks said, shaking hands enthusiastically with the Potions Master. "And who are you?" she asked Harry, in a not unfriendly manner.

Dumbledore chuckled in bemusement.

"Can you really not guess?"

Tonks cocked her head, scrutinizing Harry's face thoughtfully.

"He looks a bit like someone I know, put I can't put my finger on who, exactly…"

After a moment, she shook her head in defeat.

"No, no idea."

The three wizards exchanged significant glances. Unwilling to play a passive role in matters that concerned him, Harry quickly extended his hand to Tonks.

"Harry Potter," he said, introducing himself.

Tonks looked very much surprised, but she quickly accepted the proffered hand and expressed genuine pleasure at meeting Harry.

"Wow, I really had no idea. You look nothing like the photos of you in the Daily Prophet, Harry."

That was just as well, in Harry's opinion.

"So, why did you call me here, Headmaster? Wait- you're not going to tell me Harry's a Metamorphmagus, are you?"

"No, I don't think Harry is a Metamorphmagus. He is, however, in need of your skills-"

"What's a Metamorphmagus?" Harry asked quickly.

"It means I can change my appearance at will," Tonks clarified, noticing Harry's puzzled expression. "Watch."

Her hair became a distinct shade of purple before resuming its previous shade of pink.

"Wicked!"

But Tonks wasn't finished. Her facial features grew indistinct, and she seemed to gain a few inches in height. A moment later, Harry was looking at an exact replica of himself.

A sick feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. After months of the Mirror Charm, Harry had forgotten just how much he resembled his father. Had Malfoy noticed the resemblance between "Robert Prewett" and his Head of House, and merely pretended to buy Harry's story? What was the point of gradually changing Harry's appearance, if Draco (and more importantly, Lucius) already knew what Harry really looked like?

Harry quashed the urge to let the alarm he felt show on his face.

"Headmaster, you said we were going to have my appearance change gradually? How is Tonks going to help with that, exactly?"

"Allow me to explain," Dumbledore said. "Simply put, Tonks, I called you here because I need you to help us visualize the gradual appearance change that Harry mentioned."

"Oooh, this should be interesting. What's he eventually supposed to look like?"

"His eventual appearance- his true appearance- his the one you see now."

"You mean this isn't how he normally looks," said Tonks shrewdly. Her attitude became serious. "How much can you safely tell me?"

"Not much, yet," said Severus quietly, casting a significant glance at the Headmaster. "Merely that…it seems some sort of appearance-altering charm was cast upon Harry as an infant. That charm faded almost completely shortly after the start of term. Since then, Harry's been disguised with a modified Mirror Charm, which was removed earlier today. We cannot afford for attention to be drawn to his changed appearance, but we can no longer hide it, either. Hence the need for a transition."

"I see," said Tonks. "Do you want me to arrange for the Daily Prophet to print photos of the transitional appearance?"

"I won't give that Skeeter woman an interview, if that's what you had in mind," cut in Harry angrily.

"There won't be any interviews unless you want them," Tonks reassured him. "And it would be me- disguised as you- who appeared in any photos."

"Well…that would be…okay, I guess. But what about at Hogwarts?"

"A Glamour Charm would work, wouldn't it?" asked Tonks.

"That's exactly what the Headmaster and I had in mind," replied Severus.

"Well, then. Let's get started, shall we?" said the witch cheerfully, rubbing her hands together in anticipation.

Two hours later, an exhausted Harry left Dumbledore's office for the Great Hall. Despite his weariness, his spirits were lifted: Tonks, Dumbledore, and his father had painstakingly chosen a series of appearances and had had Harry practise casting the Glamour Charm upon himself until they were satisfied with his proficiency.

Now that the matter of his appearance was resolved, Harry had more leisure to mull over everything he'd heard today. What was the Order Dumbledore had mentioned, and who was in it? Tonks had mentioned she was an Auror, but Harry had gotten the impression that the Ministry wouldn't approve of her helping Harry disguise himself. She hadn't seemed surprised at his father's involvement, either. Did she already know Severus was a spy? Were Tonks and his father in the Order together?

Harry was not pleased about being kept in the dark, especially since he suspected the Order was actively working against Voldemort. Why shouldn't he, Harry, be involved in the fight as well? Hadn't he faced the dark wizard several times already and proven himself capable? He had as much right as anyone to know what Voldemort was up to and how Dumbledore's "old crowd" was counterattacking. If Dumbledore- or anyone else for that matter- thought Harry would just sit by and be a good boy after everything Voldemort had taken from him, they had another thing coming...


End file.
